


The House of the Rising Sun

by lawless



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Time, M/M, Prostitution, Romance, Saiyuki Kink Meme, Smut, Suspense, Thriller
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-07-14
Updated: 2011-11-03
Packaged: 2017-10-21 09:18:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lawless/pseuds/lawless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sparks fly when Cory (Sanzo) meets virgin Gordon (Goku) as prostitute and client. But is a shared past enough for them to sustain a future?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Since this is an AU, their names are different; see the list of characters at the beginning of each chapter.
> 
> Thanks to HawkClowd for the awesome beta-fu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally written for the Anonymous Saiyuki Kink Meme IV hosted by Istumen. The original prompt was: _Prostitute!Sanzo. Given to virgin!Goku as a birthday present._
> 
> I decided to write the entire story to flesh out the backstory that was hinted at there. Thus, this version is slightly modified from the one originally posted which is unfortunately no longer available due to the deletion of the host journal.

Cast of characters (in order of their appearance or reference within the story):

Jimmy = Jiroshin  
Gordon Smalls = Son Goku  
Hakkai Cho = Cho Hakkai  
Cory Sanzo = Genjyo Sanzo  
Dr. Nielsen = Nii  
Connie = Kanzeon Bosatsu  
Yvonne = Yaone  
Linda = Lirin

Yes, Gojyo’s in this, but his name hasn’t been revealed yet.

 _There is a house in New Orleans  
They call the Rising Sun  
And it’s been the ruin of many a poor boy  
And God I know I’m one._

A slim dark-haired man and a lanky red-haired man pulled the latest victim through the ornate wooden door in spite of his protests.

“C’mon,” the redhead wheedled. “There’s no reason to be embarrassed.”

The young man they were clutching with the round face and unruly brown hair blushed. The blush made him look even younger and cuter than he already did. “Leggo of me!” he protested, and brushed himself off after freeing his arms.

“I need to see some form of ID,” the man at the desk said. He was known as Jimmy, but that wasn’t his real name, and he‘d been with the House ever since the current owner took over. He wore an old-fashioned outfit and looked like a grandee with long wisps of a moustache growing on both sides of his nose.

Being an old hand at this, Jimmy had sized up the situation right away. A pair of frat brothers were dragging their friend the reluctant virgin into a down at the heels but respectable brothel for some sort of celebration. If he had to, he’d guess it was the kid’s birthday. Sometimes such ventures ended well, sometimes they didn’t. It wasn’t any of his business, as long as they paid the bill and didn‘t cause any trouble.

One of the two men supporting the prospective client pulled out the kid’s wallet and presented his driver’s license. It showed his name to be Gordon Smalls and his date of birth to be exactly eighteen years ago to the day. The man at the desk smiled. So far he was batting a thousand.

Then the dark-haired man with the brilliant green eyes and glasses shattered his illusions by saying, “We want to hire your best male prostitute for our friend here.”

“It’s his birthday, see?” the red-headed one. “We wanna make sure he celebrates it in style.”

Jimmy recovered his composure. “That will cost two thousand for the night. Cash or credit?”

The two young men looked at each other. The dark-haired one, who wore an air of debonair sophistication that the other couldn’t quite match, slapped an American Express black card in the name of Hakkai Cho on the mahogany desk.

“Sorry, we don’t take American Express,” Jimmy said, his voice laced with sincere regret. “Mastercard or Visa only.” He knew what the black card meant. It meant the man had access to unlimited funds. Hell, he could pull up at the most expensive auto dealership in town and buy any car he wanted off the lot with that card.

The black card was replaced with a gold Mastercard. “Yes, we can process that. If you’d just give me a moment?” Jimmy lifted an eyebrow and gestured to indicate the lounge area where porn magazines rested on the coffee table in front of a well-worn but comfortable couch and chairs.

The House of the Rising Sun always had one or two male prostitutes - they preferred to call them ’companions’ - on call. Some only took female customers. Those were mostly outcalls; women usually preferred to avoid entering a house of ill repute. Perhaps they were afraid of receiving pitying looks from the House’s female denizens. Some only took male customers and some didn’t care as long as the bill was paid. Right now, though, the only male companion on hand who would even deign to have sex with men was the House’s problem child, Cory Sanzo.

Despite his surname, he wasn’t Spanish, Italian, or Hispanic, or at least if he was he didn’t look it. He had shaggy golden hair, a face so pretty it belonged on a woman, and a smoking body. Despite his natural advantages, which should have made him extremely popular and able to command top dollar, Cory was picky about customers and drove those he didn’t like away. Management kept him around because he was related to the boss and had a few generous regulars, all men. Apparently, if you caught Cory’s fancy, he was a great lay.

Jimmy sighed and dialed Cory’s room. He just hoped he’d catch the bastard in a relatively good mood.

Cory picked up the phone on the fifth ring and grunted. “What the fuck do you want me for?”

Jimmy arranged his features and tried to remain calm. It wasn’t easy. “Your usual services, sir.”

“Cut the ’sir’ shit out. I’m sure whoever is sitting in the ’parlor’” - he put as much venom as he could into his voice - “isn’t impressed by your calling the merchandise ’ma’am’ and ’sir’.”

“You have a client.”

“No, I don’t. Dr. Nielsen isn’t scheduled to show up for another two hours and I’m getting ready for him.”

It sounded remarkably like he was watching television. Jimmy could hear the sound in the background. Some police procedural, from the sound of it. Cory liked the goriest, grittiest shows to ever grace TV - Criminal Minds, The Sopranos, The Wire, and so on, all of which he owned on DVD, along with Quentin Tarantino‘s entire oeuvre. He’d complained when the guy who played Grissom left CSI and when they’d killed off that black character. What was his name? Warrick? Though Jimmy supposed that given how scary Dr. Nielsen was, watching shows like that wasn’t a bad way to prepare for his presence.

“I am sorry, something else has come up.”

“You know, you can solve that easily by taking one of those magazines and going into the bathroom for a few minutes.”

Jimmy rolled his eyes heavenwards. Cory and his inappropriate sense of humor. Cory and his need to pick on everyone else to forget his own loneliness. He thought the world owed him something just because his mom had abandoned him as a baby and his dad had been gunned down in front of him when he was a teenager. He wasn’t the only person in this world to have suffered and he was indulged past bearing. As far as Jimmy was concerned, boo-hoo. Cory needed to grow up.

Jimmy sucked in his breath and continued. “We have a request for a male companion for a boy who just turned eighteen. Shouldn’t take long, him being a virgin and all. And he’s cute. Wouldn’t you like to pop the kid’s cherry?”

“What about Nielsen?”

Jimmy sighed. Dr. Nielsen was one of Cory’s regulars. He wasn’t sure exactly what they did, other than that it was eerily quiet during his visits. No one heard the usual moaning and groaning that usually occurred when Cory had a ‘visitor’. When he’d asked Cory about it, the only response he got was ’we’re doing a little experimenting’, which was a chilling explanation considering the doctor’s profession. He’d decided discretion was the better part of valor and had the sense to stop asking.

“We can push his visit back.”

“He’s not gonna like that,” Cory observed.

Jimmy sighed again. “Leave it up to me and Connie to handle, okay?” If he hadn’t been afraid of the trouble he’d get into, he’d have told Cory, just like he’d tell any other whore in the place, not to worry his pretty little head about House business. He was being paid for his body, not his mind.

“Fine,” Cory snapped. “But leave me the fuck out of it. You explain to him why his favorite plaything isn’t available when he wants it.”

“Cory,” Jimmy said warningly, “leave that to me and Connie. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah, you don’t need to repeat yourself,” Cory said sullenly. Jimmy hung up, thinking about what a selfish brat he was. He just itched to knock some sense into him, though from what he heard Cory might like that just a little bit too much. He also had a fascination with weapons, guns in particular. Jimmy wasn’t sure if that had to do with a desire for vengeance or with a fascination bordering on obsession with the instrument that had ended his father’s life.

He raised his voice so the men in the waiting area could hear him. “Cory will be down to meet you shortly,” he told them with a smile. The two older friends nodded and started talking to Gordon. Giving the kid a pep talk, no doubt.

A few of the House’s female residents left or entered on their way out to or back from outside engagements. Jimmy saw the man with the AmEx black card glance appreciatively at Yvonne, who was wearing a blue cheongsam on her way to a party with a client who had a fascination for all things Chinese. Yvonne catered to him by wearing traditional Chinese clothing, styling her long hair in a culturally appropriate way, and deferring to him in the manner of a traditional Chinese wife. The redhead stared appreciatively at lively buxom blonde Linda, who returned shortly after Yvonne left wearing her tightest and skimpiest outfit. The women all had sad stories to tell about how they got there - childhood abuse, neglectful parents, even rape - and would to a woman have smothered Cory with sisterly affection if he’d shown any sign of humanity. As it was, most of them avoided him and his cutting words like the plague.

It was no less than fifteen minutes later when Cory strolled down the richly carpeted stairs to grace them with his presence. The stairs were one of the few parts of the building that remained luxurious and pristine. They only stayed that way because the carpet was replaced every year or so, clients and occupants alike being sadly prone to spilling things on it. The spills were mostly liquor, fortunately.

Jimmy noticed Cory was wearing that weirdass shirt of his. Not that it wasn’t becoming; almost anything was becoming on the guy, but bleached white muslin shirts with embroidery - forest green embroidery, no less - around the neckline that looked like they’d been imported from India were passé. It wasn’t the Sixties anymore and Cory’s haircut was too deliberately choppy to be authentically hippie. For reasons Jimmy had never figured out, Cory wore the shirt at least once a week, especially when Dr. Nielsen was scheduled to show up. Jimmy was just thankful that Dr. Nielsen had agreed to push his visit back a few hours.

When Cory arrived at the front desk, he looked at the group of three in the waiting area, who were the only ones there, and said, “Is he the youngest one in the group?” When Jimmy nodded, he said, “I hope you carded him because I am not having sex with a minor.”

“Of course I checked,” Jimmy sniffed. “How else would I know it’s his birthday?”

“So what am I, his fucking birthday present?”

That described it perfectly. For a moment Jimmy imagined a naked Cory wrapped in wide ribbon and tied with a big bow. He repressed the thought before he could snort at the mental image and said, “Your services are a birthday present from his friends. Let’s just leave it at that.”

“And why are they still here?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps they plan to hire one of the other occupants to while away the time while their friend is with you,” Jimmy responded pleasantly.

“So what’s his name?”

“Gordon. Gordon Smalls.”

“It’s extra if you wanna watch,” Cory called out as he walked over to them. Jimmy cringed. Some customers liked the suggestive banter, but this kid might be scared away. “Another five hundred per and no touching. You wanna touch, you pay my standard rate.”

Hakkai looked horrified at this suggestion and the redhead said, “Our bad, man, we’re just here for moral support. We thought maybe we’d get acquainted with some of the ladies over some drinks if ya have any to offer.”

“Fine. Make your arrangements with Jimmy over there.” Cory turned to the apprehensive-looking boy. “My name’s Cory.” He gently placed a hand on the kid‘s hip and he didn’t shy away from his touch, which was good. He noticed that underneath the layer of clothing, Gordon was more muscular than he looked. Although Cory found his youthful - almost childlike - appearance a bit offputting, his was good-looking and his body was enticing, which was good, as Cory hadn‘t expected to be working this early in the evening and wasn‘t particularly eager or in the mood for another client. His sessions with Dr. Nielsen were always draining and took a lot of preparation beforehand.

Cory guided Gordon upstairs, his arm loosely slung around Gordon‘s waist and his hand still gently touching his hip. He didn’t ask Gordon any questions or talk to him. Asking questions so close to the waiting area and reception desk was considered overly intrusive, as some clients didn’t want to talk about themselves or what they wanted out of a session so close to others’ prying ears. Cory, who mostly kept to himself, wasn’t big on chit-chat anyway. So he generally escorted clients to his room in silence.

His bad mood was also fueled by his dislike for doing virgins. It was hard to tell how secure they were in their sexuality. Some of them seemed to have decided they were gay because they wanted to experiment, or thought it was cool, or mistook not wanting sex at all for not wanting sex with women. After he had one such client freak out on him, he’d become much more careful. He’d check whether they flinched from his touch right away, like he had with the kid, as a test. Nothing too overt - it wouldn’t do to scare away a paying customer who really did want it - but enough to make sure that the prospective client could actually tolerate a man’s touch. For another thing, he didn’t particularly want the responsibility for introducing them to the joys of gay sex. He‘d rather they educate themselves on their own time and then come to see him.

He moved his hand and slid it inside the waistband of Gordon’s jeans. Gordon shivered a little but didn’t pull away or say anything. Instead, he reached out and touched Cory’s hair, startling him a little. “Pretty,” Gordon said.

“What?” Cory’s voice was more surly than he intended, but after all, the kid had startled him.

“’M sorry. I just…like your hair. It’s shiny, like the sun.”

Cory was beginning to think that the kid, though eighteen, was a bit simple. He tried to make a joke of it. “No one’s ever told me that before.”

Gordon looked at him earnestly. “’M surprised. It really does shine like the sun.”

They arrived at the door to Cory’s suite of rooms just as Gordon made that remark. Cory opened the door and they entered the anteroom where he conducted his business. His bedroom - the one he actually slept in - and a small kitchenette lay beyond the anteroom and the bathroom was off to the left.

Cory led Gordon to an old-fashioned velvet couch with an ornate wood frame. For all he knew, it dated from the Victorian era when such things were popular, but you never knew with Connie. It could just be a cheap fake meant to provide atmosphere and impress clients.

After they sat down, Cory angled himself to look at Gordon. “So what do you want me to call you?”

Gordon looked confused. “My name’s Gordon. I thought I heard you ask the man at the front desk about it.”

Cory put his hand on Gordon’s closer knee. Gordon glanced down but didn’t say or do anything. “Clients often don’t want to use their real names here. And some like to be called by pet names instead.”

“Really?” Gordon looked intrigued.

“Yeah, some of them come up with the craziest shit they want you to call them, like ‘Spoodles’ or ‘Holmes’.”

“Holmes? Like Sherlock Holmes?”

“No, idi-” Cory stopped before he insulted yet another customer. “No, like John Holmes.” When he didn’t see a flicker of recognition in Gordon’s eye’s, he added, helpfully, “The porn star? The one with the fifteen-inch schlong?”

“Oh. Yeah, I think I’ve heard of him.” A pause. “Who wants a fifteen-inch schlong? I mean, wouldn’t it hurt?”

Cory laughed. The kid might be an idiot, but he was amusing. “Yeah, I suppose. I wouldn’t know. The client who wanted to be called ‘Holmes’ must have been doing it to boost his ego.

“So do you want me to call you Gordon? Or do you have a nickname?”

“My folks call me Gordy, but that makes me feel like a little kid. Gordon’s fine.”

Cory leaned forward to kiss him. Kissing wasn’t a normal part of his repertoire, but he figured it was necessary with a virgin. They usually had stars in their eyes and thoughts of romance in their hearts, although as his aunt Connie was fond of saying, “This business is about fucking, not about fucking love stories.“ That, and “Never fall in love with a client.“ Gordon’s eyes fluttered closed and he hesitated at first, then parted his lips just enough to let Cory’s tongue in. Cory explored Gordon’s mouth thoroughly. Gordon panted but was too shy to use his own tongue.

Cory pulled back a little, wrapping his hands around Gordon’s neck and nuzzling. Inwardly he felt like gagging but he’d found that half or more of taking a man’s virginity consisted of a snow job worthy of a con artist. He whispered, “Act like you’re happy to have my tongue in your mouth.”

“How do I do that?” Gordon asked, seemingly genuinely puzzled.

“Use your tongue too, you mor--” Cory stopped himself again. He had a terrible habit of insulting people that he‘d been unable to shed. “Use your tongue, kid,” he concluded lamely.

When he leaned forward to try again, he found that Gordon was a natural at taking instruction if it was presented to him simply enough. This kiss was far deeper and more passionate. They battled for dominance with their tongues and damn it if Gordon didn’t ultimately win, leaving Cory almost breathless. Gordon reversed their momentum enough that when Cory broke the kiss, Gordon was the one leaning forward and was halfway on top of Cory. Cory wasn’t exactly sure how that had happened.

Cory slid out from underneath Gordon and sat up, unconsciously wiping his kiss-moistened mouth with the back of his hand. “Is there anything you especially want to do or definitely don‘t want to do, Gordon?”

Gordon looked at him. “I’ve known I like boys better than girls for a long time, but I haven’t gotten very far. I’m from a small town on the Mississippi and there’s no gay bars or clubs or anything there and boatloads of prejudice. My parents don’t even know I’m gay. They just think I’m savin’ myself for the right girl.”

He cracked a wistful smile that might have broken Cory’s heart if he had one. As it was, it made it melt, just a little. Given the kid’s obvious inexperience, this was likely to last longer than Jimmy expected. Gordon might pop off at any time given the right stimulation; he knew virgins who’d come just from a deep kiss, but he didn’t think Gordon would want to stop there.

“I wanna go all the way. I know” - here he swallowed, painfully - “it might be a bit painful.” He whispered, “Jus’ make it nice, okay? I want this to be a good memory.”

Damn, the kid was tugging at his heartstrings, or what passed for them. Cory leaned forward and thrust his tongue into Gordon’s mouth again. Cory wrapped his arms around the back of Gordon’s neck, leaning forward and pulling Gordon closer. Gordon wrapped his arms around Cory’s back so that Cory was half-sitting on Gordon’s legs, which wasn’t terribly comfortable for him, nor was it likely to be comfortable for the significantly smaller Gordon.

Cory broke away, slightly breathless. The kid was obviously turned on, though not so much so that Cory thought he was in danger of coming already.

Sliding to the floor, Cory unzipped Gordon‘s pants, pulled his underwear down, and pulled his cock out. Gordon’s eyes, already impossibly wide and round, got even wider and rounder as Cory licked the wayward trickle of precum, tracing it back to its source. Next, he languidly but thoroughly explored the head with his tongue, causing Gordon to lay back, eyes closed, gasping and gripping the sofa for dear life.

“Ahh,” Gordon panted, “I’m gonna come soon if you keep doin’ that.”

Cory looked up at him with half-closed eyes. Gordon felt his heart beating wildly. What was it about the man’s droopy eyes and the way he was looking at him that made him so seductive and desirable?

Barely missing a beat as he held the base of Gordon’s cock and slid it in and out of his mouth, Cory said, “It’s - hah - okay if you - hah - come.” Given his age and inexperience, he figured it wouldn’t take much for Gordon to get hard again.

He felt Gordon’s cock thrust harder and pulse as Gordon’s wet gooey come squirted into his mouth while Gordon moaned. He tasted the bitterness of it as it slid down his throat.

Gordon’s eyes were wide as saucers once more. “Wow,” he said. “Does it really taste that good? ‘Coz I licked a little of it once after I, uh, beat off and it was real sour.”

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Cory said, “It takes practice.” He’d had lots of practice. He was just a whore, after all. “You want to kiss? It might get you more used to the taste.”

He couldn’t believe he was giving the kid advice, for fuck’s sake. He needed to remember that this was just another client, just another face, another fuck.

Gordon hesitated.

“You don’t have to--” Cory began, backtracking, until Gordon reached down, dragged him off the floor, and crushed their lips together in a kiss that once again left Cory breathless.

“That was real nice,” Gordon said dreamily. “I never had a blow job before.”

Cory made an incredulous noise and Gordon shrugged. “What can I say? “M from a really small town. It‘s not like I could ever ask someone to do that for me. An‘ all my friends here are straight.“

Cory contented himself with raising an eyebrow and figured now was time to move toward the main event. He pulled Gordon’s pants and underwear all the way off and threw them on the couch. Getting up, he pulled Gordon to his feet and expertly stripped him of his t-shirt with the brand name logo, tossing it on the pile of clothes as well.

Gripping Gordon’s hands, he walked backwards while guiding Gordon to the bed in the anteroom’s back corner. This wasn’t as impressive as it appeared. He had so much practice walking backwards while guiding clients to the well-used bed that he knew exactly how many steps away it was from the couch. It was fucking amazing he and his clients hadn’t worn a path in the carpet.

Once he arrived at the edge of the bed, he sat and pulled Gordon onto his lap. With Gordon’s awkward help, he divested himself of the his tunic and jeans and tossed them off to the side onto the floor. He could pick them up later.

Gordon seemed slightly awed, and definitely aroused, when he discovered that Cory hadn’t been wearing any underwear. Cory’s nakedness revealed that he was as erect and as hard as Gordon had been before the blow job. That alone was enough to get another rise out of Gordon.

Now that they were both naked, Cory lay back, pulling Gordon down on top of him. They kissed again, their erections rubbing against each other. Then Cory rolled over, taking Gordon with him, so he wound up on top of Gordon. He rose to his hands and knees in order to search for the lube and matches in the drawer of the cabinet next to the bed. After finding them, he lit a few candles and turned the lights off with the nearby dimmer switch.

Gordon’s hands roamed over Cory’s body when he sat down again after placing the lube within arm’s reach on the bed. Cory returned the favor, circling each nipple with a finger and then following that up by teasing and tweaking the nubs. He heard Gordon’s hissing intake of breath each time he did that. Eventually tiring of that, he licked and kissed his way down to the kid’s groin.

As he went, he admired the kid’s musculature. For someone so short and youthful - even childish - looking, he was well muscled and buff. Not so much so that he looked like a body builder or someone on steroids, but enough to suggest that he was an athlete or worked out a lot for other reasons. His skin was lightly tanned and glowed golden-brown, and his eyes were almost golden.

For some reason Cory asked, “Do you play sports?” He didn’t normally display such a personal interest in his clients, though if they wanted to talk about themselves he usually at least pretended to listen. He wasn‘t exactly sure why he was taking the initiative now.

“Yeah, ’m on the wrestling team,” Gordon admitted.

Cory found himself asking, “What weight class?“ and Gordon said “Welterweight“.

Cory would have to keep that in mind. He didn’t think Gordon was the type to use any wrestling holds on him, but you never knew. The kid was probably stronger than he looked.

Cory moved down further on the bed so Gordon’s behind was easy to reach. “Gordon,” he said to get his attention.

“Yeah, Cory?”

Clients didn’t often call him by name like that. Though he always gave them his name to create the illusion of a personal connection and so they knew who to ask for on future visits, most clients acted as if he were just some anonymous collection of body parts attached to a pretty face. Being called by name by this well-toned athlete made his cock twitch. Fuck, he was turning into a real pussy if that’s all it took to turn him on.

“Just to warn you, so you don’t freak out, I’m going to use my tongue on you first, then fingers coated with lubricant. Are you okay with that? It means we can’t kiss anymore.” Of course, if he weren’t a virgin, he wouldn’t have been kissing him in the first place.

“Y-yeah, if you think it’s best,” the kid replied, blushing. He looked a little apprehensive, though. He probably thought the idea of someone putting his tongue there was a little gross.

He wound up draping Gordon’s legs over his shoulders and back while his tongue moved closer and closer to its goal, finally darting inside. Gordon shivered and groaned as Cory’s tongue delved deeper. He would never have expected it to feel as sensual or stimulating as it did. For good measure, Cory stroked his perineum and balls, causing Gordon to buck and moan wantonly.

“S-s-stop,” Gordon protested. “I’m gonna--”

Cory squeezed the base of Gordon‘s penis. He’d been enjoying Gordon’s responsiveness even though the bucking made everything more difficult. He’d forgotten how eager virgins could be; some of his clients were extremely jaded.

“Th-thanks,” Gordon stammered now that he wasn‘t in imminent danger of coming again before being deflowered.

Cory quickly retrieved the lube and began prepping him. He inserted one lube-slicked finger and after giving Gordon time to get used to it, began moving it in and out, slowly at first, then more quickly, until Gordon’s pants threatened to turn into moans. He repeated the process with two more fingers before he felt Gordon was sufficiently prepared for what was to come and coated his own cock with lube.

Cory pulled himself toward the top of the bed, hovering over Gordon. As he stroked Gordon’s side, he said, “Get up on all fours.”

“W-why?” Gordon asked. “Can’t I see your face while we’re, ya know, doin’ it?”

A hopeless romantic. He should have known.

“It’s easier from behind, especially for a first-timer,” Cory matter-of-factly explained.

Gordon sat up and looked at him, a fierce look in his eyes. “’M pretty athletic and flexible. Bein’ doubled over a little bit’s not gonna bother me.”

Gordon wasn’t acting like a shy virgin anymore and Cory felt less like a jaded plaything than usual. “They say the customer’s always right,” he said as he nearly tackled Gordon, pushing him down onto his back.

Gordon spread his legs. Cory knelt between them, supporting himself with his hands placed on either side of Gordon’s torso, and slowly pushed into him. He found he had to go slow for his own sake because Gordon’s enveloping tautness was stimulating him in a way he hadn’t been in a long time.

He’d done this so often for so long that he didn’t ejaculate or orgasm every time. He figured what was important was whether the client did, not whether he did, and it was rare for a client to make an issue out of it. The few who did were either egotistical pricks who needed their partners to come to validate their sexual prowess or were hung up about their partner‘s enjoyment. There was only so much pretending he could stand to do, so he didn‘t mind either handing these few over to more congenial and responsive colleagues or seeing their hindquarters as they left the establishment for good with his epithets ringing in their ears. Connie and Jimmy tched over the latter but he didn‘t care. Connie would let him stay around as long as he had a few steady good-paying gigs.

At first Gordon’s muscles were tense, his face was scrunched up, and Cory could tell he was holding his breath to prevent himself from voicing his discomfort, if not outright pain. He stroked Gordon’s cheek with his right hand and asked, “You okay?

Gordon smiled tightly and said, “Yeah, ‘m good,” even though it burned. It wasn’t so bad, though; he figured he could live through it. He wrapped his legs around Cory’s waist, pushing him even deeper inside. He hadn’t lied about his flexibility. Cory felt the head of his cock brushing up against the knot of nerves buried deep inside that made anal sex worthwhile and Gordon’s breath hitched in a way that signaled pleasure, not pain.

Just as Cory noticed the tension in Gordon’s muscles easing, Gordon added, “Ya can move now.” Cory took him at his word and withdrew until only the tip was still inside Gordon’s taut ass. He slowly pushed back in and pulled out again carefully. For some reason, it mattered to him that he not hurt this kid even though he was a romantic fool destined to have his heart broken.

At least, not hurting him mattered until Gordon outright whined, “C’mon, fuck me already!” The kid’s use of profanity made Cory’s dick twitch inside him, causing his breath to hitch again. Looking more closely, Cory noticed that Gordon’s eyes had darkened with lust so that all that was visible of his irises was a thin band of gold around black pupils.

Gordon bit his lip in concentration as their eyes met. He smiled and reached up to stroke Cory’s cheek. Cory captured a couple of wandering fingers in his mouth and moved his head so they slid in and out of his mouth in a lewd and suggestive manner while keeping his gaze fixed on Gordon.

Heat rose in Gordon’s face as a blush bloomed over his cheeks. The edges of Cory’s thin lips quirked up slightly in what could almost be described as a smile and his eyes, which were so deep blue they almost looked purple, sparkled with mischief, as he obeyed Gordon‘s command.

Gordon was taken aback at the abrupt change. Cory went from being leisurely and laid back to setting a fast and unrelenting pace. Each thrust was more insistent than the last and only the steady rhythm kept Gordon from going completely crazy. “Fuckfuckfuck,” he panted.

Cory was also panting as a result of the strain of supporting himself with his arms so as not to crush Gordon. He was starting to get uncomfortably warm; he could feel drops of sweat forming on his scalp and trickling down his neck and forehead.

Pressure built as their skin formed a sticky seal that was then broken with a slick squeak and Gordon felt Cory’s balls slapping against his inner thighs near where Cory was fucking him senseless. The movement and contact between their pelvises was enough to produce a pleasurable friction against Gordon’s cock and balls. He’d expected this to feel more like whacking off with the added feature of someone (or something) being inside him but it felt entirely different, and much better, to be doing this with a flesh and blood person. Cory, for his part, didn’t necessarily expect to get off when he was with a client. So the imminent balls-heavy apex of their arousal was a revelation to both of them.

Just as he felt he couldn’t take any more of the sweet yet sometimes painful sensation caused by having Cory‘s dick shoved up his ass, hitting that sweet spot, and the weight of Cory‘s pelvis massaging his dick, Gordon’s climax exploded while he moaned Cory‘s name. Anything that caused him to nearly pass out with a flashes of light in the darkness could really only be compared to fireworks. He let go of the fierce grip his hands and legs had on Cory and collapsed back on the pillow under his head, panting as if he’d been running laps.

Cory had to work hard to gain the leverage and friction he’d enjoyed when Gordon was wrapped around his body, but he was close enough now that he soon experienced his own climax. Sated and nearly completely wrung out, he panted while he collected himself, slowly eased out of Gordon, and collapsed off to Gordon’s side.

Gordon felt the warm come shooting into him and dribbling out slightly because he had his feet on the bed instead of wrapped around Cory. It made him feel wickedly depraved to have caused another man’s orgasm and to have the result of that orgasm pooling inside him and trickling down his thighs.

Instead of walking to the bathroom and bringing back a wet warm washcloth to clean them up with, as he usually did, Cory rolled onto his side, propped up on his elbow and facing Gordon. He traced Gordon’s face with the index finger of his other hand.

Gordon returned the favor, running his finger down and across Cory’s face. “That was nice,” Gordon sighed happily. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Happy birthday.“

Gordon propped himself up on his elbow and looked around. “That sofa reminds me of my Aunt Jane’s. She lives not too far from here.”

Cory wasn’t paying much attention to the words - he was spending his time soaking in how Gordon’s sweat-slicked skin looked instead - but he tossed the conversational ball back, asking, “So where does she live?”

“In Vacherie.” [1]

Cory sat up as though he’d been shot. The scar from the flesh wound he’d received the night his father had been killed right before his eyes suddenly ached. “Shit, I don’t believe it. My dad grew up in Vacherie. We used to spend summers there at his parents’ house. Your aunt‘s last name isn‘t Smith, by any chance?”

“Yeah, it is. I spent most of my summers at her place.” Gordon frowned. “Wait. What’s your last name?”

“Sanzo.”

“Wait.” Now it was Gordon’s turn to sit bolt upright. “I remember your grandparents. An’ I think I remember ya, although ya were a lot older ‘n me. Remember rescuing a kid who was trapped in a cave by the river that was starting to flood? That was me!”

Cory looked at him in outright amazement. “That was you? You‘re shitting me!” He leaned back, face scrunched up, trying to remembering what the kid had looked like. Short, shaggy brown hair, round face, button eyes. Although he couldn’t definitively say they were the same people, it was certainly possible.

In the meantime, Gordon was conducting a similar assessment. The older boy who rescued him had been blond and pretty, almost willowy. If he weren’t as strong and muscular as he was, the kids would have called him girly. As it was, things were said about him behind his back, but never to his face. It certainly could be the same person.

“It’s a small world, ain’t it?” Gordon asked, clasping his hands behind his head. “Ya don’t know how grateful I was that you found me and rescued me. I guess we were meant ta run into each other again.”

And though from any other lips these words would have Cory thinking ’stalker’, in Gordon’s mouth they just sounded welcoming and warm.

Cory was beginning to think about grabbing a post-coital smoke when his phone rang. He picked it up with the shocked recollection that Dr. Nielsen was due to arrive soon, and was surprised to find, when he looked at the clock, that it was already time for the rescheduled appointment. Jimmy was on the other end of the line to tell him the good doctor was there.

“Shit,” Cory said as he slammed the phone down. “You need to get going. I have someone else waiting for me.”

“In a lot of demand, huh?” Gordon said softly, and somehow the plaintive tone in his voice really got to Cory. He wrapped his arms around Gordon and lightly kissed him on the forehead. “Just enough to keep me employed here, actually,” he said. “But I really enjoyed myself with you..”

He offered to wipe Gordon down, but Gordon waved him away, wanting to keep the evidence of their union as long as possible even though it was sticky and would probably dry uncomfortably. It didn’t feel like he’d lost his virginity; it felt more like he’d gained something. He didn’t mind that it made him smell like semen and sex. If he could, if it were socially acceptable, he’d shout from the rooftops that he’d been laid by the very same person who’d rescued a confused and scared kid from a watery cave.

Cory said, “I have to take a quick shower. You understand, don’t you?”

Gordon’s insides ached at the thought that the evidence of their love-making was going to be washed off of Cory‘s body, but he understood that Cory’s next client might not appreciate smelling or feeling his previous one’s spend on his skin. “I’d like ta come back an’ see ya again,” Gordon said as he pulled his clothes back on.

Cory smiled. “I’d like that. Make an appointment with Jimmy. He handles the schedule.” Cory wondered about the confident statement, though. He didn’t think Gordon or his parents were well off enough to pay for more visits. Would his frat brother pay again? And if he did, what did that say about his relationship with Gordon? In his experience, rich people didn’t pay for poorer people’s pleasures without strings being attached.

Besides, though he was loath to admit it even to himself, Cory wanted to see Gordon again even if he weren’t being paid for it. It wasn’t unheard of for the House’s inmates to have outside lovers, even boyfriends or girlfriends, although they were expected to do that on their own time away from clients’ prying eyes and ears. He’d never brought anyone to the single bed in his bedroom before. There was always a first time, he supposed

“Maybe ya can show me how to give a blow job,” Gordon said happily. “An’ maybe next time around I can fuck ya.”

Cory almost dropped the washcloth on the floor. If he’d been drinking anything, he’d have choked on it. What the hell? Clients didn’t usually pay him to learn how to give head or how to fuck a man. Receiving a blow job had never been part of the tricks of the trade, and clients didn’t need to be taught how to fuck him over. The thought of furthering Gordon’s education, far from irritating him as it had when he’d first found out he’d be servicing a virgin, enticed him, though. Excited him, even.

He shooed Gordon out the door before he could drop any more bombshells and render him completely incapable of satisfying Dr. Nielsen’s whims. Fuck, the reason he’d rescued that kid was because he could hear him crying out for help. Apparently it was some sort of permanent thing he wasn‘t meant to escape.

He disappeared into the bathroom and turned the shower on nearly as hot as it would go and tried to get his mind back where it had been two hours ago before Jimmy had called him to tell him about his unexpected customer.

 _Oh mother, tell your children  
Not to do what I have done  
Spend your lives in sin and misery  
In the House of the Rising Sun. _

Next chapter: We meet Dr. Nielsen and find out what Gordon‘s friends have been up to in his absence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Vacherie is a real place and is situated along the Mississippi River a short ways upriver from New Orleans. I have no idea if there are any caves there, though. I picked it more because of the name and location than any knowledge about its topography.
> 
> A/N - “The House of the Rising Sun” was the first title that came to mind and I ran with it despite the horrible pun. I wrote this to a partial soundtrack of the Animals’ version of that song and some of the lyrics are reprinted here. Fortunately, since it’s a folk song, they’re in the public domain.
> 
> It’s often assumed that the House referred to is a house of prostitution, but based on lyrics I haven’t quoted here, it could also be a gambling hall or a prison. We don’t know for sure.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hakkai and JoJo (Gojyo) amuse themselves while Cory (Sanzo) is busy with their friend Gordon (Goku); Dr. Nielsen’s (Nii’s) arrival for his appointment with Cory disrupts the peaceful mood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cast of characters in this chapter:
> 
> Jimmy = Jiroshin  
> Gordon Smalls = Son Goku  
> Hakkai Cho = Cho Hakkai  
> Cory Sanzo = Genjyo Sanzo  
> Dr. Nielsen = Nii  
> Connie = Kanzeon Bosatsu  
> Linda = Lirin  
> JoJo = Gojyo

Jimmy directed Gordon's friends to the bar in the far left corner, beyond the grand staircase. They took a couple of steps toward it, enough to see round marble top mahogany tables and round chairs with cane backs filling the middle of the room. A mahogany bar ran along the wall to the right. Gilt mirrors reaching almost to the ceiling behind the bar reflected the glassware and bottles of liquor. A bartender wearing an old-fashioned white shirt, suspenders, black pants, a black bow tie, and black garters around his upper arms completed the picture.

Victorian-style divans and fainting couches covered in burgundy velvet, marble-topped end tables, and hurricane-style lamps wired for electricity, not candlelight or gaslight, lined the left-hand wall. The windows were covered with venetian blinds as well as heavy burgundy velvet curtains tied back with wide swags.

Hakkai backtracked toward the reception desk, his friend trailing after him, unsure of what he was up to. “Would it be all right if we played a game of cards while we waited?” he asked.

Jimmy raised a bushy eyebrow. "What game do you plan to play and for what stakes?" he asked.

"Poker, and we’d only be playing for a dollar a hand."

"You brought your own deck?" Jimmy asked, eyeing the well-used pack of cards in the man’s hand suspiciously.

"Yes," Hakkai responded. "You never know when you'll be in the mood for an impromptu game."

Jimmy thought about this. The House had most of the New Orleans vice squad and brass in the police department on its payroll, so being caught wasn't a particular concern. The deck could well be marked, though. They couldn’t chance that, especially since sometimes the residents watched and, worse yet, got involved in a game. He didn’t want any fights breaking out, or hard feelings between a resident and a potential customer.

After a few seconds' thought, Jimmy said, "We'd be happy for you to play informally, but as a matter of courtesy you must allow anyone else who is in the bar parlor who asks to play. And we’d like you to use one of our decks."

Hakkai's eyes narrowed. "You don't trust us?" he asked in a steady but firm voice.

"It's not that," Jimmy said with a nervous laugh. "We can’t afford to have guests accused of cheating." He added, "We can provide you with an unopened deck."

Hakkai shot a look at the tall redhead slouched against the counter, hands in his pockets. The redhead had been leaning there long enough for Jimmy to notice his sunken high cheekbones and the two scars along his left cheek; Jimmy would bet good money that there was an interesting story behind both the man’s striking looks and his disfigurement.

The redhead nodded slightly and Hakkai said, "Yes, that's acceptable to us."

Jimmy fished a wrapped, unopened pack of cards out of the desk and threw them on the wooden counter. "There you go. Compliments of the House. Just make sure to leave them when you go."

"Sure thing," the redhead said and pushed away from the counter holding the new deck.

Hakkai led the way toward the bar parlor.

Because it was relatively early, the bar parlor was quiet and nearly empty. A husky man with close-cropped black hair wearing a bolo tie and rumpled suit sat at a table counting bills and sipping a glass of scotch on the rocks that he poured from a bottle he kept with him at the table. Presumably he was another one of the employees, perhaps a bookkeeper or clerk, Hakkai thought.

The two men stepped up to the counter, the redhead intending to beat Hakkai to the punch when it came to paying for their first round of drinks, but Hakkai stopped him, saying, "Tonight's my treat, all right, JoJo?"

He slapped the Mastercard on the counter and asked the bartender to start a tab. The bartender took the card for safekeeping and nodded. Hakkai ordered whiskey neat and JoJo ordered the beer that was on tap.

While they stood there waiting for their drinks to be delivered, JoJo smiled slyly and said, "In that case, expect no mercy from me when we play cards. I'm going to beat the pants off of you."

Hakkai arched his eyebrow. "My, are we playing strip poker again? I know this is a whorehouse, but isn't it a bit daring to do that here, in public?"

JoJo laughed and slapped Hakkai on the back in the universal guy language of good cheer and bonhomie. "Good one, Hakkai! I'll have to remember to tell that one to the brothers back at the frat house. They'll add it to the long list of funny, ironic, and perverted things you've said over the last three years."

Hakkai said, in a low voice, "If we keep this up, we may be here for three more. I understand tonight is special for Gordon, and I don't begrudge him, but you have to stop dragging me to bars on weeknights."

"What," JoJo said, "you can't hold your liquor anymore?" He snagged his beer as the bartender slid it down the bar toward him and Hakkai grabbed his whiskey. They walked over and sat down at a table.

Hakkai frowned. "That is not the point. The point is that I'm not devoting the time I should to my studies, and since my parents were kind enough to send me here to learn something useful to them and the company, I should repay them by studying and getting good grades."

JoJo remarked sullenly, "How does going out on a Thursday night count anyway? Thursday is practically the start of the weekend as it is."

Hakkai had to admit the justness of the remark, so he dropped the topic. He removed the cellophane wrapper from the deck of cards and began shuffling and dealing. His fingers moved so quickly that they became a blur.

JoJo enjoyed watching him do this; his dexterity was mesmerizing. JoJo had earned pocket change as a card sharp during summer breaks and even he wasn't as accomplished at shuffling and dealing as Hakkai was. Sometimes his envy temporarily doused the flame of their friendship a bit, especially his envy of everything Hakkai had that he didn't. Then he would remember how Hakkai got the scar on his belly and the damage to his right eye and he remembered that Hakkai had paid a price – maybe too high a price – considering his abilities and the luxuries he enjoyed.

They played in mostly companionable silence, JoJo raising and Hakkai meeting him until the moment of truth when they turned their hidden cards over. As usual, Hakkai had the winning hand and walked away the winner. As much as he might deny it, his uncanny understanding of probability and the psychology of betting stood him in good stead.

Every so often, Hakkai wandered over to the bar to refresh their drinks, as there was no table service. He supposed that was how they maintained the pretense that it was a private bar for friends of the ‘residents’ and not a public bar that needed a liquor license.

The busty blonde who had caught JoJo's attention when she’d arrived earlier walked unsteadily down the stairs into the bar parlor. It looked as though she had nowhere better to be. She was soon leaning over JoJo’s shoulder and looking into his hand.

“Hey, sister,” he said good-naturedly. “Don’t tip my friend here off as to what cards I have.”

She stood up, her cleavage only inches away from his face. “Don’t worry, gorgeoush,” she pouted. “I don’t give customersh secretsh away.”

“What’s your name, if I may ask?” Hakkai said.

“Aww, whatta gentleman! The name’s Linda,” she replied, and sat down, somewhat unsteadily, in the chair to JoJo’s right. “Sho what’re your names?”

“I’m Hakkai,” the dark-haired man with the neatly trimmed hair and glasses said, “and my friend’s name is JoJo.”

“Nice to meet you both,” she said, and held out her hand. It wasn’t clear whether she intended them to kiss her hand, continental-style, shake it, or hold it. JoJo lifted it to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it. When he let go, she stretched her arm out over the table toward Hakkai, who held her hand briefly and murmured, “Enchanted to meet you.”

She settled back in her chair. Hakkai wasn’t sure if she was going to ask to be dealt in, kibitz, or just watch.

As they continued playing, Linda snuck glances at JoJo’s hand and whispered comments to him that made him laugh, but she didn’t outright kibitz and she didn’t tip Hakkai off to what cards JoJo held. She flung her arms around JoJo when he turned unexpectedly lucky with a flush. Given the ups and downs of the bets, winning this hand brought him almost even with Hakkai for a change.

JoJo felt a surge of triumph. He _never_ won a game of poker against Hakkai. Okay, he was better at playing Guitar Hero, and they were pretty evenly matched at most video games, but he sucked at card games by comparison.

A few hands later, Linda slumped against JoJo’s right arm. It was uncomfortable, and he nudged her a little, but she didn’t wake up. Apparently she had had a few drinks too many somewhere along the way that evening.

The bartender, observing this, bustled over to the table and hauled her out of her seat. “Excuse me,” he said, nodding to them, and he guided her to the private office opposite the reception desk. Connie wasn’t in, so he guided Linda to Connie’s couch, where she stretched out. Closing the door behind him, he gave the high sign to Jimmy, who’d witnessed the entire thing, to make sure someone warned Connie if she returned before Linda woke up and staggered upstairs.

Jimmy was bemused. He thought sure that one or both of Gordon’s friends were going to avail themselves of the House wares while Gordon was getting waxed. Instead they seemed content to sit in the bar playing cards and to wait for him.

Speaking of which, shouldn’t Gordon be done by now? Cory didn’t usually take this long to satisfy a customer, nor did he normally lose track of time. Time is money, as Cory himself often remarked.

Jimmy found the delay disquieting. It suggested an attachment to a client of the sort that Connie preached, and Jimmy fervently believed, that House residents should never have.

As he was thinking this, a middle-aged man with greasy slicked back black hair and a permanent five o’clock shadow, his lips curled in a smirk and a toothpick in his mouth, breezed in as if he owned the place. The toothpick used to be a cigarette but he’d switched when the House had banned smoking in the common areas. Sometimes he walked around with an unlit cigarette between his lips, though.

“Hello, Dr. Nielsen,” Jimmy said. “Please make yourself comfortable. I’ll give Cory a call.”

Things were just getting better and better. He had to call Cory to tell him he was running late while he still had a prior client with him. Lovely. Jimmy hoped his call wouldn’t interrupt anything; while he only expected this engagement to be a one-off, he would prefer not to piss a customer and potential referral source off to that extent.

He gave Dr. Nielsen a weak smile and dialed Cory’s extension. He paused when Cory picked up and said, “Yes?” Cory seemed a little huffy but it didn’t sound like Jimmy had caught him in the middle of anything.

“Dr. Nielsen is here. You need to get your butt down here.” Since Dr. Nielsen was still hovering near the desk, Jimmy didn’t want to say anything more that might tip him off that Cory was still with his prior client, the one whose arrival had precipitated the request that Dr. Nielsen postpone his appointment in the first place.

“Fuck,” Cory said irritably. He rubbed his head and tried to rouse himself from the pleasant lethargy and sense of comfort he was feeling. “All right. Can you stall him for a bit? I need to wash up.”

Jimmy sighed. Clearly Cory had somehow gotten caught up in the moment, as unheard of as that was. “I’ll do my best,” he said, and hung up.

He greeted the good doctor with an utterly fake smile and said, “Cory will be down shortly, sir. Can I offer you anything to drink? There are magazines there.” Since Linda was still occupying Connie’s couch, he couldn’t very well offer the use of the flatscreen TV in Connie’s office and the collection of pornographic DVDs Connie kept there. Jimmy suspected she kept them as much for her own amusement as for clients’ and House residents’ edification.

“No, thank you,” Dr. Nielsen said politely, his eyes gleaming behind the lenses of his black-framed glasses. He went over to the couch and looked desultorily at the magazine covers. Jimmy heaved a small sigh of relief that at least the man wasn’t hovering nearby. He would prefer it, though, if the doctor would sit down.

He expected Gordon to walk down the stairs soon. Jimmy hoped Cory had gone easy enough on him that he wouldn’t stagger on the way down.

Dr. Nielsen began flipping through magazines, frowning a bit, as if he didn’t much like what he saw.

A few minutes later, Gordon bounded down the stairs. He seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of energy and to be no worse for wear as a result of the evening’s activities, Jimmy noted.

When Gordon approached the desk sporting a quizzical look on his face, Jimmy pointed to the bar parlor and said, “Your friends are waiting for you there.” A grin split Gordon’s face and he ran off to find them.

After Gordon left, Jimmy looked up and was startled to see Dr. Nielsen looming over him. He hadn’t heard or otherwise noticed him leave the waiting area to walk over to the desk. Creepy.

Dr. Nielsen had a strange glint in his eye. “Is that the young man for whom I graciously agreed to move my appointment back? He is rather delicious, isn’t he?” he said, and leered.

Jimmy was a little taken aback. He didn’t know the good doctor liked them that youthful looking. Cory was in his twenties and beautiful, but so world-weary that he sometimes gave the impression of being a decade or so older. As a university professor, Dr. Nielsen had access to many who would easily satisfy his craving for youthful good looks. For some reason, the thought made Jimmy shiver.

“Um, I’d prefer not to divulge information on other clients, if you don’t mind,” Jimmy said. He didn’t want to alienate Dr. Nielsen – after all, he was a generous and important client – but he also didn’t want to share one client’s business with another. Besides, even though there was no love lost between him and Cory, it was bad business to make one of the residents look bad.

“Well, I guess I’ll just use my brains and conclude that yes, that is the young gentleman who was desperate to have his cherry popped and Cory was the only one around who could do it for him.” Dr. Nielsen smirked, and Jimmy noted that the way the man’s eyebrows wagged as he spoke was in and of itself obscenely suggestive. “That must mean Cory’s free now. “

Dr. Nielsen quickly headed toward the stairs while Jimmy stared at him, open-mouthed and speechless. Jimmy started flapping his hands while he tried to form a coherent sentence. Dr. Nielsen turned to grin at him and said, “It’s not necessary to ask Cory to meet me. It’s not like I don’t know my way there.”

Completely discomfited, Jimmy dialed Cory’s extension while he watched Dr. Nielsen climb the stairs, but no one picked up. He figured that Cory was probably still in the shower. Jimmy would bet anything that Cory would be pissed off if he discovered Dr. Nielsen in his room already when he emerged from his shower. On the other hand, if Cory had remembered to lock his door, Dr. Nielsen would likely be pissed, which might be even worse.

Jimmy had a sinking feeling that this would not turn out well.

* * *

While Jimmy was having an anxiety attack, Dr. Nielsen strode down the hallway toward Cory’s room with a little extra bounce in his step. He always looked forward to his visits. They provided the spark and purpose the rest of his life lacked, mostly. It was _fun_ to mess around with Cory; Dr. Nielsen had gotten him to the point where he would do whatever Nielsen asked without complaint.

Just barely refraining himself from rubbing his hands in glee like a cartoon villain, Dr. Nielsen halted outside Cory’s door and knocked twice, not hard but not softly either. No answer. Perhaps Cory was in the shower?

This thought pleased him. He liked having the upper hand. Since he received no response to his knock, he tried the doorknob instead and discovered that the door was unlocked. He entered, chuckling at Cory’s failure to take proper precautions against people like him barging in.

As he settled himself on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other, he could hear the sound of running water that emanated from the other side of the bathroom door. His suspicion was correct, then. Cory must be washing off the evidence of what he did with that kid.

It didn’t matter to him whether Cory smelled like the well-used whore he was or as fresh as a daisy; he was simply tickled pink at the opportunity to catch Cory off guard. That was part of the special charm of their relationship: that he was able to keep streetwise Cory Sanzo, cynic extraordinaire and the son of a former colleague of his, off balance and without any inkling of his true motivation.

The bathroom door opened and Cory emerged, a towel wrapped around his midsection. He was drying his hair with another towel. Dr. Nielsen pouted a little bit; he’d been hoping to surprise him while he was completely naked to see what his reaction would be.

“My, my, what a pleasure to see you, Cory,” Dr. Nielsen said with a suggestive lilt in his voice. He had by this time replaced the toothpick in his mouth with a lit cigarette.

“Go fuck yourself,” Cory said, his voice half smothered by the towel he was using to dry his hair. He threw the towel through the open door onto the bathroom floor, combed his hair out with his fingers, and then crossed his arms while glaring at his guest.

Dr. Nielsen smiled, unperturbed. “I like feistiness in my subjects. It’s not as much fun when they roll over and play dead right away. And the bit about fucking myself – don’t you have that a teensy weensy bit backward?”

“You tell me, Doctor,” Cory bit off. “I’m never quite sure what goes on during our sessions.”

“Well, let’s get on with it,” Dr. Nielsen said. “But first put on your clothes. The unexpected interruption has thrown our schedule all to hell.”

Cory didn’t understand why Nielsen wanted him to get dressed if he was going to get undressed again, but it wasn’t his to reason why. Figuring the good doctor would enjoy watching, and having long ago lost any sense of modesty about dressing and undressing in front of clients, he pulled on his jeans and tunic.

“You know the drill,” Dr. Nielsen said. “Get a glass of water and come over here and sit next to me.”

Cory did as he was told. Once he sat, the professor leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. Cory looked at him oddly.

“Since you made me wait, I think it’s only fair that I get a kiss, something you don’t normally give out,” Nielsen remarked. He set his cigarette down in the ashtray and leaned over, nibbling his way up Cory’s neck to his ear.

Cory sat stock-still and said hoarsely, “What, you want to kiss me?”

“Mmm,” Nielsen said as he nipped at that delectable ear. “I want you to kiss me like you mean it.”

“What? Fuck, no. I don’t do that.”

Nielsen pulled back and grinned. “You mean to tell me you didn’t kiss the mouth of that delicious boy I saw leaving? His lips were all pouty and I could smell you on him. You don’t know how that made me feel, either.”

Cory mentally kicked himself for losing track of time and letting Gordon’s session go on too long. “I’m sorry,” he said in a monotone.

“You don’t sound very sincere,” Nielsen observed. When Cory responded with a start, he chuckled. “Smelling you on that kid didn’t bother me. It excites me that other people desire you, that other people have you. I know you’re a whore. All I care about is that you’re _my_ whore.”

Cory closed his eyes, grimacing. It usually didn’t bother him to be called a whore – hell, he called himself that often enough – but somehow Dr. Nielsen made it sound dirtier and more depraved than it really was.

Then again, the point of his sessions with Dr. Nielsen, to the extent there was a point that he understood, was control: for Dr. Nielsen to assume control and for Cory to relinquish it. That enabled Cory to forget everything that had happened since his father had been killed, and for that oblivion, that peace of mind, he was willing to do and endure nearly anything, even Dr. Nielsen’s leers and molestation, even the hours of his life that he couldn’t recall.

Concluding that it made no sense to maintain a strict ‘no-kissing’ policy with Nielsen, he leaned over, heading for the man’s lips, but when he got there, Nielsen roughly thrust his tongue into Cory’s mouth, exerting an amount of suction that forced him to admire the strength of Nielsen’s jaw muscles, and explored his mouth so thoroughly that he was breathless and hard once Nielsen broke the kiss.

“The hell?” Cory said angrily. “You said you wanted me to kiss you.”

Nielsen smirked. “I changed my mind.” He loved messing with the kid.

He took a plastic pillbox out of his pocket, removed the capsule inside it, and handed it to Cory. “Here.” They’d been doing this long enough that he didn’t have to add “Take this” anymore. Cory knew the routine.

At first, Nielsen had injected the experimental concoction into Cory’s thighs, but eventually Cory had objected that clients would notice the needle marks on his body, and even if the marks didn’t look like typical addict’s tracks, clients would think he was a junkie. Junkies weren’t reliable; they stole from clients to feed their habit, didn’t take care of themselves, and were disease carriers. He couldn’t afford that kind of reputation.

Nielsen had to admit that Cory had a point, though it was far more difficult to formulate a capsule that functioned the same way as the injections, which was why he hadn’t done it in the first place. They went through weeks of trial and error before he hit on the correct formulation.

That had been months ago, though, and Dr. Nielsen was excited and pleased at the latest results. After ten minutes or so, Cory responded as if he were hypnotized. He could move about and do things, but only at Nielsen’s behest. Best of all, he reacted to what Nielsen told him while still maintaining a mental blank slate with no recollection of what happened. So no matter what Nielsen told him was going on, Cory would react as if it were really taking place.

The drug had other applications too. The level of mind control it permitted could be used for assassinations and other intriguing and potentially lucrative scenarios. Using it under those conditions had to wait until he was certain it worked, however; hence the use of Cory as a guinea pig. Given his profession, the most logical way of testing it on him was to give the illusion that they had sex; besides, Nielsen got off on it too, especially on the thought of controlling Cory’s every reaction. He liked turning Cory into his very own living doll.

It was a win-win situation for everyone. Cory got the peace of mind he wanted, no matter how briefly, which seemed to reconcile him to the loss of chunks of time and his memories of them, and Nielsen got a willing subject and a pet who didn’t even know to what extent he was one.

Within ten minutes of swallowing the capsule, Cory’s face was blank, though he remained upright and didn’t slump over like he had for a while.

“Take off your jeans,” Nielsen told him, “so I can suck you off.”

Cory complied without a word, his movements automatic. He sat back, legs spread, and responded as if Nielsen actually were kneeling on the floor sucking his cock.

Nielsen couldn’t help himself; he sat on the floor in front of Cory with his legs crossed and touched the inside of Cory’s thighs as Cory thrust and moaned, his hands grabbing at non-existent hair, until he shuddered and came. By this time, Nielsen had removed his shirt and put his glasses on the coffee table to catch Cory’s spend on his naked torso, neck, and face. Once the come made contact with his skin, he ran a finger across the largest glob and licked languidly.

At times like this, he wished Cory could remain conscious. He’d like to see the ice prince’s reaction. Would it turn Cory on to know that Nielsen liked being covered in Cory’s come or to watch Nielsen lick it off his body, or would it leave him as indifferent as everything else seemed to?

“Lie down,” Nielsen commanded, “and spread your legs. I’m going to fuck you.”

Cory lay back on the sofa, his legs up in the air and spread. It was almost obscene to watch his body quiver and hear him moan when there was no one hovering above him, no one preparing him, no one thrusting inside him. He looked so vulnerable and ridiculous that Nielsen almost felt sorry for him. Almost, but not quite; Nielsen wasn’t foolish enough to forget the real reason why Cory, and not someone else, was the subject of his experiments. The Spanish proverb had it right: revenge was a dish best served cold.

* * *

Meanwhile, Gordon’s return to the desk to request another appointment with Cory temporarily made Jimmy forget his anxiety about Dr. Nielsen’s visit. Jimmy snickered to himself, pleased but a little surprised that the session had gone that well. It was consistent with Cory running late for Dr. Nielsen’s appointment, but it was unusual for Cory to get lost in the moment like that. It was even stranger because he hadn’t been expecting the session and as a rule hated doing virgins.

Jimmy’s unease returned. Surely Cory was exhibiting an unhealthy attachment to this kid if he was responding to him so uncharacteristically. He’d never expected Cory, of all people, to be susceptible to gentler feelings or, God forbid, to fall in love at first sight. Other residents had, but not hard-nosed, hard-edged Cory.

Gordon’s voice brought him back to reality and brought him up short. “Is Cory available next Friday night – a week from tomorrow, I mean? We had a great time an’ I really wanna see him again.”

“Gordon,” his friend with the credit card – Hakkai, Jimmy thought his name was – said warningly.

“Ah, yes,” the boy said, the look on his face turning serious. “Unless I, like, win the lottery, this next time will be my last visit.” He turned to Hakkai, threw his arms around him, and said “Thanks!”

“Don’t mention it,” Hakkai said, gingerly extricating himself from Gordon’s crushing hug.

Jimmy had checked Cory’s schedule by now. “How’s ten o’clock sound? Would that work for you?”

“Cool!” Gordon said. “See ya then.” And with a wave, he and his friends strolled out the door.

Jimmy continued scanning the schedule. Dr. Nielsen had an appointment on Saturday night, the day after Gordon’s next visit. Jimmy thought that would work out better; he’d been seriously creeped out by the look Nielsen gave the kid.

* * *

Dr. Nielsen tiptoed out of the room. He had no way of locking the deadbolt, but he pushed in the button that locked the doorknob.

He left Cory slumped over and sleeping on the couch. He’d thought about carrying him over to and placing him on the bed in the corner, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort.

Nielsen occasionally stayed until Cory woke up, so he already knew that Cory would probably remain asleep for another hour or two. He chuckled at the thought of Cory waking up to find himself naked and covered in drying semen. The sofa was marked with it too. Cory was just so _messy_.

Some of it was Nielsen’s. Eventually, Nielsen would pull his cock out and come on Cory’s body and on the sofa without bothering to clean either of them. Why should he? He did it because he enjoyed marking Cory and his furnishings. He was paying for Cory’s time, after all. He might as well make the most of it.

Jimmy noticed Dr. Nielsen tiptoeing down the stairs as though he was trying to sneak out unnoticed. While there was no need for Nielsen to stop on his way out, the way he was acting gave Jimmy a creepy feeling.

“Everything all right?” Jimmy asked.

Dr. Nielsen stopped, fixed him with a sinister smile, and said, “Peachy keen”.

Since the man at the desk seemed to expect more, he added, “Cory’s sleeping it off. He’s a bit tired from our exertions.” Nielsen liked to give the impression that he and Cory fucked like bunnies.

“See you next week,” Jimmy said.

“I look forward to it,” Dr. Nielsen replied, and continued on his way out.

 

Next: We spend some time at the fraternity house where Gordon, Hakkai, and JoJo live, and Gordon has his second, and last, appointment with Cory.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gordon (Goku) eases back into the school grind after his encounter with Cory (Sanzo). Anticipation and trepidation build as his next, and final, appointment with Cory nears. Will it be another night to remember or will it break Gordon’s heart?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cast of characters in this chapter:
> 
> Gordon Smalls = Son Goku  
> Cory Sanzo = Genjyo Sanzo  
> JoJo = Gojyo   
> Hakkai Cho = Cho Hakkai  
> Connie = Kanzeon Bosatsu  
> Kevin = Koumyou Sanzo  
> Jimmy = Jiroushin
> 
> Miz Langlois is an original character. She has no _Saiyuki_ counterpart, nor does Cory Sanzo’s mother.

For the first few days after he slept with Cory, Gordon walked around in a daze. It wasn’t so much that the sex had been awesome (though it was), or that Cory was drop dead gorgeous (though he was); what had Gordon’s head spinning was the nearly instant emotional connection he’d felt with Cory, which had only been reinforced when he discovered that Cory was the one who had rescued him from the cave he’d gotten stuck in when he was ten.

In some ways, though, Gordon wished he hadn’t found out about their prior connection. Knowing Cory before made his current circumstances seem almost unbearable. He thought he remembered that Cory’s father had been a professor at the medical school at Tulane, just down the road from the college he attended. How did the son of someone like that wind up a prostitute in a slightly down-at-the-heels whorehouse in the Lower Garden District, which was less upscale and unlikely to attract the same clientele as, say, a similar establishment in the French Quarter that catered more to tourists?

His thoughts were interrupted by JoJo saying “Hey, squirt.”

Gordon looked up and said “Hey, JoJo” before turning his attention back to his breakfast.

JoJo walked over to where Gordon was sitting and ruffled his hair, making it even more untidy, before sitting down next to him. Gordon didn’t particularly like it when people messed up his hair – it made him feel like a little kid – but others seemed to find it impossible to withstand the temptation to mess up his thick head of untamable hair.

“So what’s in the cupboard?”

“Wheaties, Life cereal, granola, and Cocoa Puffs. Oh, and some instant oatmeal.”

JoJo made a face at the mention of oatmeal. “Only people worried about their health eat oatmeal. I’ll pass, thanks.” He studied Gordon. “You look different. More mature, y’know.”

Gordon punched JoJo’s shoulder lightly. “Leave me alone,” he groused good-naturedly. He knew JoJo was (mostly) just giving him a hard time about losing his virginity.

“Hey,” JoJo said as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jeans pocket, “the guy they set you up with was pretty good-looking. If I swung that way, I’d be interested.”

Gordon frowned. “His name is Cory, and I don’t wanna hear ya talk like that about him.”

JoJo gave Gordon’s shoulder a little push. “Oh! The little monkey’s in love.”

JoJo’s remarks hit a little too close to home. Gordon snatched the cigarette JoJo had pulled out of the pack and was about to light out of his hand. Holding it as far away from JoJo as he could, he said, “Honestly, JoJo, ya know smokin’s not allowed anywhere other than in your room!”

Now it was JoJo’s turn to pout. “Fine! But give me my cigarette back, or so help me, I’ll pound you. Those things are fucking expensive.”

“Now, now, JoJo, you know I frown on swearin’, especially in the common areas,” a distinctly female voice said.

Gordon and JoJo looked toward the doorway, where the plump figure of the fraternity house’s manager, den mother, and general factotum, Miz Langlois, stood. Her gray hair was arranged in an unfashionably pouffy hairdo and she wore her customary floral patterned apron over her clothes, along with sensible lace up shoes. She had started working at Kappa Delta Phi shortly after losing her husband in an automobile accident fifteen years ago and had since become something of an institution.

JoJo ducked his head, embarrassed. Miz Langlois had a keen sense of timing. It figured that she’d appear, almost out of thin air, whenever he used profanity, but wasn’t around the ninety percent of the time he didn’t.

Gordon thrust the cigarette in front of his friend’s nose and said, in response to JoJo’s remark about the expense, “All the more reason for ya to quit, then. And there’s no way you can pound me.”

JoJo took the cigarette back and stuck it back in the pack from which it came before replying “I’d have you in a headlock before you could say boo” and getting up to rummage in the cupboards for some cereal.

Gordon shook his head in disagreement with the comment and finished his Wheaties in silence before wandering back to his room to get ready for his first class of the week. He was thankful that class didn’t start until ten; he found Tuesday and Thursdays, when his classes started at eight thirty, almost unbearable. Not only was he groggy and unable to think clearly that early in the morning, the early start didn’t give him enough time to fill his stomach adequately beforehand. By the time he was finished at twelve thirty, he was usually famished and ready to nibble on his own leg.

“Oh, hi, Hakkai,” he said as he passed him in the upstairs hallway.

As he started to turn the doorknob to his room, he realized Hakkai was following him. He looked over his shoulder and said, “What’s up?”

Gordon wasn’t sure what the look on Hakkai’s face meant. Hakkai looked as though he felt sorry for him, but he didn’t know why.

“Could I come in for a minute? There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”

“Sure.” Gordon shrugged as Hakkai followed him into his room. It was tiny, barely big enough for the narrow but neatly made bed, computer desk and chair, printer stand, and dresser occupying it. A small TV was perched on an overturned milk crate.

Gordon sat on the bed, leaving the chair for Hakkai to sit in, but Hakkai remained standing and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking uncomfortable.

“Shoot,” Gordon prompted him. He had a little over an hour before he had to leave for class, but he didn’t have a lot of time to spare if he wanted to look over his notes from the last class ahead of time.

“This is rather awkward,” Hakkai began, “but I’m beginning to think it wasn’t a good idea to take you to a prostitute for your birthday.”

Gordon frowned. “Why? I had a really good time, an’ I’m gonna see him again. Or are you goin’ back on helpin’ me out by payin’ for one more visit?” He added, realizing that the last sentence seemed a little ungracious, “An’ it was completely awesome of ya to offer! I didn’t expect that, and I’m not takin’ it for granted.”

Hakkai smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I know you’re not taking it for granted, Gordon, and no, I’m not going back on my word, not if you still want to go. But—“ He paused, trying to phrase this delicately. “Don’t you think you might be getting a little, oh, I don’t know – obsessed with this man?”

At first, Hakkai had been nothing but happy for his friend, who’d left babbling about what an awesome experience it was (thankfully, he spared them the details) and had chatted in the car all the way back to the fraternity house about how it turned out that Cory’s grandparents lived in the same town as Gordon’s aunt and oh my God, Cory was the same kid who’d rescued a scared ten-year old Gordon from a flooding cave along the Mississippi River.

But then, as he watched Gordon floating on air all weekend and listened to him rave about Cory to him, JoJo, and a few other friends, he began to fear that Gordon saw too much significance in the immediate emotional connection he’d felt to Cory. He’d even wondered if maybe Cory had manufactured the connection between them in an attempt to induce Gordon to return, but when he thought it over he realized that Cory had no way of knowing in advance that Gordon would be his client, so his recollection of rescuing Gordon couldn’t have been manufactured.

Even without it being a set up, though, Hakkai felt that Gordon was headed for heartbreak. There was zero chance that his infatuation with Cory could end happily. Hakkai couldn’t justify continuing to underwrite Gordon’s visits after the next one, so this next visit would almost certainly be the last time Gordon would ever see Cory unless they ran into each other by accident. Based on his demeanor and behavior when he greeted them, Cory didn’t seem like someone who would see anyone off the clock and outside of work. Even if they maintained some sort of personal relationship, Cory’s vocation would eventually bother Gordon. His initial impression from his brief encounter with him in the reception area was that Cory didn’t seem the type to quit hooking just because some kid fell for him.

Besides, no one with any self-respect would want someone to come swooping in to rescue him from a life of degradation. Irrespective of his opinion of Cory, he carried himself with a self-confidence that bordered on the obnoxious. Maybe he even relished his degradation; Hakkai knew there were people like that. At any rate, brash, self-confident Cory seemed at odds with the person who rescued Gordon when they were younger. Still, people changed. Maybe Cory was no longer the person Gordon remembered.

After the harshness of Hakkai’s question, Gordon sat there, stunned. “I thought ya were happy for me! I thought ya liked him!” he exclaimed. He crossed his arms and frowned. “If that’s the way ya feel, I’ll pay for the next visit myself.”

Hakkai said, gently, “Gordon, we both know you can’t afford that. I don’t know the man well enough to like him or dislike him. What I said was that I was happy for you, and I am, but you’re so charged up about this that I’m afraid you’ll be heartbroken when it all ends.”

Gordon stuck his chin out and insisted, “It’ll all work out. You’ll see. Meeting again must mean _somethin’_ , like we’re supposed ta be together.”

Hakkai sighed. “I just don’t see him leaving his current life behind, and I don’t see you being happy if he’s still in it. Are you even sure he feels the same way that you do?”

“Well, he told me he’d like it if I saw him again,” Gordon said defensively.

“But wouldn’t he say that anyway? The more clients he has, the more money he makes,” Hakkai said, reasonably.

Gordon shook his head. What Hakkai said made sense, but his heart told him that there was more to it than that.

Hakkai walked over and put his hand on Gordon’s shoulder. “I don’t want you to get hurt. That wouldn’t be much of a birthday present. Think about what I’ve said, okay?”

Gordon gave him a weak smile. “Sure, Hakkai. I know ya aren’t tryin’ ta be mean about it or nothin’.” He added, stubbornly, “But I still think you’re wrong.”

Hakkai smiled tightly and left. As soon as he was out of the room, he shook his head. Gordon was clearly infatuated. He wasn’t sure what to make of the difference between Gordon’s impression of Cory and the impression he’d left when Hakkai and JoJo met him. He just hoped Cory wouldn’t rip Gordon’s heart out and stomp all over it.

* * *

Cory walked to the neighborhood café and ordered his usual: black coffee, undiluted by any sweetener, creamer, or other filler, especially the foamy crap that was part of practically every froufrou coffee drink at those upscale coffee shops.

He liked the casually funky, locally-owned coffee shops and coffee bars, but he preferred the café because it had tables outdoors, which allowed him to smoke while he drank his coffee, and because it offered a wider variety of food than the coffee shops. A per diem amount for food was charged against his earnings at the House, but he liked to get out of the place most mornings, or in the early afternoon if he’d worked late into the evening. He didn’t spend so much at the café anyway that he felt that he wasn’t getting his money’s worth out of the food he paid for at the House. If he spent all his time cooped up inside that Victorian monstrosity, he started to feel as if the walls were closing in on him. He supposed it was a variation on cabin fever.

At the neighborhood café, he was known, yet not known. The servers recognized him, but since he hardly ever brought clients here (occasionally, the ones who paid to stay the night and didn’t get on his nerves), they had no reason to know what he did for a living. For all they knew, he was a college student who either lived or preferred to hang out outside the immediate vicinity of Tulane and Loyola New Orleans, the two biggest and best-known universities in town. At twenty-three, he could be a student who’d started college late, taken time off along the way, or was pursuing a graduate degree.

As he understood it, as the son of a Tulane professor he would have been able to attend Tulane for little or no charge, assuming he met the admission requirements. He would also have received credit in a specified dollar amount toward tuition at many other colleges, though it would still have been more expensive than attending Tulane. The hitch was that this benefit only applied to the children of current faculty members and possibly retirees with pensions. It didn’t apply to people like him, whose father was no longer employed by Tulane because of his death.

When he had learned that, he was upset and angry that his father’s death meant that he couldn’t afford to go to college, especially since his father Kevin had taught at Tulane his entire career – twenty some-odd years – and had even gotten his medical degree there. What was even more unfair was that Kevin had been so unworldly and naive as to not elect additional life insurance coverage beyond the benefit in the amount of his salary that Tulane provided automatically free of charge.

Since he was sixteen and still a minor when his father died, he'd had to go live with his aunt even though she was the sister of the mother who’d abandoned him. There had been no other options: Kevin was an only child whose mother was in a nursing home and whose father had died shortly before he did. Cory’s mother had no siblings other than Connie, though to give Connie credit she had always stayed in touch with him and Kevin, celebrated holidays and Cory’s birthday with them, and done her best to provide some semblance of family in her sister’s absence. For all her eccentricities and the unsavory nature of her primary business, living with Connie was a thousand times better than going into foster care at age sixteen, only to be kicked out and dumped on the streets two years later.

Ever since he was old enough to understand what was going on, he’d felt that there was something off about his mother’s departure, something Connie, Kevin, or both of them knew but weren’t willing to tell him. At one point, he’d even thought he was adopted, that his parents hadn’t been married, or that his mother had abandoned him and his father for another man. Kevin had produced his birth certificate, showed him the framed wedding photograph and wedding album he’d stored in the attic along with the few belongings his mother had left behind (his father kept them in what he called ‘the hope chest’, the fool), and with a gentle and sweet smile that hid any bitterness had assured him that no, his mother had not run off with another man, an assertion Connie backed up. The most Kevin would say about it was that his mother had her reasons and, though he regretted their existence, they made sense. He shouldn’t blame her for leaving; if anything, Kevin told him, he should blame Kevin.

As he sat sipping his coffee and nibbling on a beignet, Cory thought again about his session with Gordon. He’d been daydreaming about it and fantasizing about their upcoming session ever since. He’d even lost his concentration while he’d been with other clients, although he found that if he pretended that the man fucking him was Gordon, he would come without any effort.

He still wasn’t sure why he was so attracted to Gordon. Since he was inexperienced, it clearly wasn’t his sexual technique, though he’d been agile, accommodating, and a quick study. Their prior acquaintance might have something to do with it, but they’d met each other so briefly before that he couldn’t see that as a major factor. Some people just clicked, through pheromones or body chemistry or something; maybe that’s what was at work here.

The one thing he absolutely, positively couldn’t believe was that it meant that he’d fallen in love, just like that, practically at first sight. Cory considered himself incapable of that kind of love. He didn’t think it even existed. He’d seen too much of human hypocrisy and the seamy side of life to believe in true love, romance, or 'happily ever after'.

This left him with a dilemma. Gordon was clearly the kind of person who believed in true love, romance, and wishing upon a fucking star. As warm as it had made him feel at the time, Cory now regretted having encouraged him. At least his instincts had kept him from sharing his thoughts about the possibility of their becoming lovers outside of the client/prostitute paradigm. He was fairly sure that all he’d said was that he’d like it if Gordon visited him again. The words had disclosed nothing, although maybe his body language and tone of voice when he said them revealed more than he'd intended. He’d gotten the impression that Gordon picked up on non-verbal cues surprisingly well.

As attracted as he was to the thought that they were meant to be together, he decided that he should break things off after their next appointment. He’d heard from Jimmy, who seemed worried about something, that Gordon’s friend had made it clear that it would be their last. Cory’s suspicion that Gordon couldn’t afford to pay him on his own dime was likely correct, then.

His mind wandered down even darker alleyways. Maybe the only reason the friend – Hakkai, was it? – was paying for this was that he was getting something out of it. Maybe this was his way of training Gordon to be an adequate lover for him. Gordon seemed genuine and unaffected, but he could just be a really good actor.

Tamping down the flare of jealousy that these thoughts brought on, Cory left the rest of his beignet on his plate. The powdery dough that had tasted so satisfying at first made his gorge rise now. When a sip of his coffee only made it worse, he beckoned to the server hovering nearby and asked for a glass of water. Once he finished it, he got the fuck out of there, his earlier good mood entirely gone.

* * *

Despite his brave front, Hakkai’s warning made an impression on Gordon, who looked forward to Friday with increasing dread and anticipation. Hakkai was probably right that it would be the last time he’d see Cory, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for that. But it would break his heart to cancel his appointment. He felt he owed it to Cory to give him a chance to demonstrate that the connection Gordon thought he’d felt was genuine and not feigned.

In the meantime, Hakkai had realized that Gordon (or rather he) might have been charged for more hours than Gordon had used before. He was going to try to get Gordon some more time with Cory on Friday, if he wanted it, without additional charge. He wasn’t sure if that would help resolve things, but he reasoned that giving them more time to sort out their feelings, or at least to talk, couldn’t hurt. Unlike last time, he was going to drive back to the fraternity and return later rather than hanging around. He wasn’t ready to take the plunge yet and hook up with anyone there himself; besides, he didn’t want his becoming a patron to add any complications to Gordon’s potential love life.

JoJo asked him to keep an eye out for Linda while he was there; he was a little concerned about her after the way she collapsed when they were waiting for Gordon. That was at least one thing in Cory’s favor, Hakkai thought; as obnoxious and snippy as he had been, he had neither acted nor smelled like he’d been boozing it up, nor, as best he could tell, did he display any signs of drug addiction. JoJo agreed, and he should know, seeing as he volunteered at a substance abuse clinic for troubled teens as part of the requirements for his counseling major.

So, despite his apprehensions, on Friday night Hakkai found himself driving Gordon back to the House of the Rising Sun. The streets and sidewalks were starting to fill up with people out partying now that the weekend had arrived, although the Garden District was more sedate than the French Quarter. Still, he could hear the beat of loud music coming from a basement club as he and Gordon walked from Hakkai's parked car to their destination in silence.

Hakkai reached for the doorknob first when they arrived at the doorstep. Gordon said, in a rush, “Th-thank ya for bringin’ me and treatin’ me again. I swear, I’ll do somethin’ to pay ya back.”

“It’s okay, Gordon,” he said as they stepped inside for the second time. “You don’t have to repay me, even with a favor. Just remember what we talked about and be careful, okay?”

Gordon smiled at him widely enough to light up the night sky. “Sure, Hakkai! I know you’re just tryin’ ta look out for me.”

They stopped short when they noticed that Cory was standing nearby. Hakkai wondered how much of their conversation he had overheard and what he made of it.

Cory glowered. It sounded like Hakkai, or whatever this rich Asian dude’s name was, was warning Gordon to look out for him. Even though Cory had come to much the same conclusion himself, it made him angry and determined _not_ to live up, or rather down, to Hakkai’s expectations.

Plastering as genuine a smile on his face as he could muster, which wound up looking more like a grimace than a smile, Cory advanced toward them. “Hi,” he said, sticking his hand out for Hakkai to shake. “I’m Cory.” He wanted to take the measure of the person paying for Gordon’s pleasure. That exchange at the door made him even more suspicious of Hakkai’s motives than he already was.

“Hello,” Hakkai said politely, shaking the proffered hand the way he’d been taught: firmly, but politely, without the bone-crushing grip some people engaged in. “My name is Hakkai.”

“You a Buddhist?”

Hakkai’s eyebrows flew up and his eyes widened in surprise. “Not exactly, but some members of my family are. Why do you ask?”

“Your name. It’s a reference to the Eight Precepts, isn’t it?”

Cory was happy to see that this knocked Hakkai off balance. He wanted Hakkai to know that there was more to him than most people assumed.

Hakkai was somewhat impressed. He also could tell that Cory was trying to rattle him, as if they were competitors. He wasn’t exactly sure why.

Leaving that puzzle for later, he walked over to the desk to begin haggling with Jimmy over the terms of this latest visit. Cory turned to Gordon, slung his arm around his waist, and pulled him in close.

As soon as Gordon had seen Cory, he had wanted to wrap his arms around him and give him a kiss, but he had a sense that such an exuberant public display of affection wasn’t the norm here. So instead he let Cory take the lead.

Cory had to remember to play it cool and not to kiss Gordon, which wasn’t merely odd; it was a sign of the apocalypse. Since Gordon was accustomed to being kissed by him, he knew he was going to have to break his rule and continue doing it, but it didn’t bother him the way it would normally. What was it with him and kissing lately, anyway? First Gordon, then Nielsen. He was turning into a kiss demon.

He steered Gordon toward the stairs, giving Jimmy and Hakkai-the-money-man a wave. Gordon had settled comfortably into his embrace; he’d snuggled even closer to him so their hips were bumping each other, giving Cory goosebumps as well as a hard on, and sending chills up his spine besides. He wanted him so much that he could barely restrain himself from groping and kissing Gordon right there. For his part, by the time they got upstairs, Gordon was sporting a sizeable boner of his own as well.

When he heard the phone ringing while they were still in the hallway, Cory hurriedly opened the door. He stole a glance at Gordon, who was grinning from ear to ear, the cheeky little monkey. He wondered if the phone call meant that there was some sort of problem.

Jimmy was on the other end of the line. “You’re his for the rest of the night,” he said. “Mr. Cho will pick him up at eight tomorrow morning.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me right,” Jimmy said. “Make sure you tell Mr. Smalls about the change of plan, as he expects to be picked up in a couple of hours. Oh, and give him this message from Mr. Cho: ‘Good luck, and Godspeed’.”

Shaking his head and wondering what that was about, Cory hung up the phone and turned to Gordon. “Well, your friend Hakkai just paid for you to spend the night with me. He’s going to pick you up at eight in the morning instead.”

Gordon looked like he’d gotten a birthday present all over again and had Christmas come early on top of it. “Wow!” he said, eyes shining, and threw his arms around Cory, nearly flinging himself into Cory’s arms. “Hakkai is such a good friend. I didn’t expec’ this.” Hakkai must have changed his mind about Cory, he thought. Either that, or he was giving them more time to figure out how they felt about each other.

Cory extricated himself from Gordon’s grip. “He also left a message for you.”

“What is it?” Gordon asked.

“’Good luck and Godspeed’. Do you know what that means?”

Gordon shrugged. “Not exactly, but sorta.” He beamed. “I’m so glad we’re gonna spend the night together.”

Gordon nuzzled Cory’s face with his lips. Even though it reminded Cory somewhat of what a cat or some other furry pet might do, it felt good. Comfortable.

When Gordon broke away, Cory headed for the kitchenette in the far left corner, which was mostly hidden from view by a wall and a louvered door. “I’m getting some water. Do you want something?” he asked.

Gordon shrugged. “Whaddya have?”

Cory scrunched his face up in concentration, the door to his small refrigerator open. “There’s soda, orange juice, water, and beer. Oh, and I have some liquor and ice. I’ve got vodka and gin and the makings for tonics and collinses.”

“Water’s fine. Unless ya have root beer.”

Cory shook his head. In some ways, Gordon acted younger than his years. “No root beer, but I’ll get you a water.” He emerged holding a water bottle in each hand; he offered one to Gordon, who took it, unscrewed the cap, and gulped some of it down. Cory followed suit more decorously.

Once Gordon screwed the cap back on and put his water bottle down, Cory guided him over to the bed in the corner and pulled Gordon down on top of him. Walking up the stairs had been agonizing and he wanted relief as soon as possible. On the other hand, they had all night, which meant he was being paid for as much foreplay and sex as they had the time and energy for. Shit, if he’d known he’d be spoken for the entire night, he’d have paced himself differently that day.

They crushed their lips together eagerly while their hands roamed all over each other. Cory made quick work of the button and zipper on Gordon’s jeans, pulling them down far enough to allow him to take hold of Gordon’s cock, now engorged and standing erect. After palming Gordon’s erection for a few seconds, Cory began stroking it in earnest, using firm, quick movements. It felt to Gordon like he was in a hurry to make him come.

Gordon had more trouble with Cory’s jeans, but soon had them open sufficiently to work on him. After caressing the head of Cory’s cock with his thumb and index finger, he began to work on getting Cory off.

Cory nudged Gordon until he rolled over next to Cory, which was less awkward than him being on top of Cory. They caressed and stroked each other’s faces and torsos with their other hands, moving in for quick kisses and nibbling on each other. Gordon wanted nothing more than to burrow into the crook of Cory’s neck and stay there for an eternity.

Their anxiety made them both feel slightly desperate. Cory had never felt this way before. It added to his sense that he was in over his head. Yet he also craved their connection, and the idea of giving it up upset him.

“Ow!” Gordon said. “C’n ya slow down a bit?”

Cory’s mind returned from the dark place to which it had wandered. Shit; apparently he was irritating Gordon’s cock instead of making him feel good. He brought his hand up toward the slit and spread precum all over his fingers. For some reason, in his haste to be downstairs before Gordon showed up, he’d forgotten to get lube out ahead of time and place it within reach.

He lunged for the drawer in the cabinet next to the bed, where he kept the lube, and dragged out a tube, which he placed on the bed.

He slowed down his attentions to Gordon’s cock. Gordon’s breath hitched. He gave every sign of being about to come. But he held back until he thought Cory was close. They climaxed together, voices crying out as they rolled into each other’s arms and remained there in a close embrace, sticky liquid on their hands and bodies.

Cory grabbed a paper towel and dampened it in the kitchen sink, bringing it back to the bed to clean Gordon and himself off.

Gordon tucked himself back in and slid off the bed to kneel at its side. “Sit up,” he told Cory.

“Remember?” Gordon said patiently. “I wanted to learn how to go down on ya. It shouldn’t all be one way.”

Cory laughed. It wasn’t usual to teach clients about oral sex, but he didn’t mind in this case. “Okay,” he said, sitting up, as Gordon had asked. “If you’re on your knees, that usually means the other guy is sitting at the edge of the bed, or in a chair. Or sometimes he’s standing. There are other variations too, like both partners lying down--

“I know!” Gordon exclaimed enthusiastically. “Sixty-nine, right?”

A smile briefly lit up Cory’s face. “That’s not what I was thinking of, but yes, there’s sixty-nine. There’s also face-sitting. That’s pretty self-explanatory. One person can lie on his back with the other person kneeling between his legs. One can be on his back and the other off to the side.”

Cory scooted to the edge of the bed as Gordon got into position in front of him. Since Cory was only half-erect after the orgasm he’d just had, Gordon started out by using his hands. Then he wrapped one hand around the base and teased the head with his tongue, licking the clear liquid dribbling from the slit.

Cory let his head roll backwards and closed his eyes, taking in the sensation of Gordon’s tongue teasing the head of his dick. With each lick, he bit his lip to prevent himself from emitting an undignified moan.

“Lick the underside,” he told Gordon breathily, trying to speak as little as possible so his shortness of breath and the tone of his voice wouldn’t betray how undone he was by all this.

Gordon complied without hesitation, eager to do what Cory told him to do. “Unhh,” Cory moaned, unable to hold it in any longer.

Gordon paused. “Ya like that?”

Cory glared at him, but all he said was, “Now, use your entire mouth. And be careful with your teeth.”

First Gordon tried approaching from the side. After a few tentative passes over Cory’s erection, he went back to facing it head-on and took as much of it into his mouth as possible.

The moist seal of Gordon’s lips around him and feel of his tongue tickling him caused Cory to thrust his cock in and out of Gordon’s mouth. Gordon tried his best to keep the back of his throat loose and relaxed so he wouldn’t gag when Cory thrust into it.

Cory, more accustomed to giving blow jobs than receiving them, let himself just experience one for once without thinking about it. He nearly forgot that he was with a client. Gordon’s mouth was doing wicked things to him as he slurped, almost as if the cock he was sucking was the tastiest ice cream cone he’d ever licked.

The sight of Gordon’s bobbing head made Cory’s dick throb all the more. Reflexively, he clutched Gordon’s shaggy mop of hair as the sensations threatened to overwhelm him, even though having fingers clenched in his hair was something he hated when clients did it to him. He panted and moaned, his brain short-circuiting until he realized he was going to come after only a few more passes of Gordon’s wet tongue on his dick. He choked out, “I’m gonna—” and tried to break away, but he couldn’t move without causing both of them pain.

Gordon sensed that Cory was close to orgasm. He knew Cory wanted to take it easy on him, but he was going to swallow anyway. The memory of Cory taking him into his mouth and swallowing turned him on immeasurably. He wanted to return the favor.

So, despite Cory’s efforts to pull away and spare Gordon from having to swallow - he would have been happy with the blow job as a prelude to other things – Cory’s come filled Gordon’s mouth and slid down his throat. Gordon swallowed and grinned like a cat that had just enjoyed the richest cream.

“What’s with the look?” Cory asked as Gordon pulled away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Proud of yourself?”

“Yeah,” Gordon said.

Cory playfully punched him in the arm. “You’re not supposed to admit that, you doofus!”

What he’d done didn’t occur to him until Gordon playfully punched him back. God, he was an idiot. Here he was, acting like this kid was his friend, not a client, even though he was on the clock. Even though it felt as though it was all right – the kid hadn’t objected, and had even played along, and ‘doofus’ was not the worst thing he’d ever called someone – still, he had to stay alert. He never knew when something like that might come back to bite him on the butt.

Gordon looked around. “Where’s somethin’ I can use ta wipe ya up with?”

“In the bathroom. There’s a whole stack of washcloths.”

“Y’all must go through a lot of washcloths and stuff, huh?” Gordon said casually as he walked to the bathroom. Cory felt his face get warm. Shit, was he _blushing_? Having his attention called to the logistics of his profession was, for some reason, embarrassing, almost as if he’d been caught going to the bathroom. Maybe it was because talking about the amount of laundry they went through removed the aura of magic and mystery surrounding having someone at your beck and call.

Cory repressively replied, “Uh huh,” hoping by his tone of voice to quell any more questions. After a short burst of sound from the faucet, Gordon emerged from the bathroom with a dampened washcloth and carefully wiped Cory down. Midway through, he slapped one hand to his forehead and exclaimed, “I’m sorry! I shoulda offered to lick it off of ya.”

Cory started laughing, which made the sensation of the cloth against his penis and groin tickle, which only fed the laughter. When he finally got himself under control, he ruffled Gordon’s hair and said, “It’s okay. I couldn’t ask for more.” Feeling unusually generous, he added, “That was good for a first time.”

Now it was Gordon’s turn to blush. “Thanks!” he said, threw his arms around Cory, nearly knocking him backward onto the bed, and kissed him.

The kiss caught Cory by surprise. He rarely had the opportunity to taste himself on someone else’s tongue. It felt odd to taste it, and he found it bitter and salty, perhaps more so than most. He didn’t pull back, though, and deepened the kiss, tongues vying with each other to see whose tongue could delve deepest into the other’s mouth.

Gordon leaned into Cory as the kiss grew more passionate and rather than fight to maintain his balance, Cory opted to lower himself, with Gordon on top of him, backwards onto the bed. Gordon positioned his right knee in between Cory’s legs. As Cory felt another erection stir, he rubbed against Gordon’s knee to create some friction to relieve the ache.

Soon Gordon was wiggling against Cory for the same reason. Cory restrained him, afraid that a frotting session would turn into another messy orgasm. He didn’t have spare clothes Gordon could wear and figured that Gordon wouldn’t want to have to resume wearing clothes with dried semen inside them.

“Gordon,” he whispered, “stop. Let’s get undressed first.” He began slowly unbuttoning Gordon’s shirt. His fingers trembled slightly due to impatience, as he was eager to see Gordon naked again, but he wanted to make this a sensual, rather than a hurried, experience for Gordon.

“Huh?” Gordon said, momentarily disoriented. His eyes cleared. “Oh. Yeah, you’re right.” He tried to undress Cory while Cory was still working on his clothes, but Cory batted his hands away. Gordon must have felt as impatient as Cory, though, because he began to unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans as Cory reached the last of the buttons on his shirt and pulled the shirt out of his waistband.

Between the efforts of the two of them, Gordon was now clad in only his underwear, which Cory pulled down to the floor while Gordon stepped out of them. “My turn,” Gordon said simply, and pulled Cory’s shirt over the top of his head while Cory helped by lifting his arms up in the air. He then pulled Cory’s jeans, still around his hips from before, down and off, feasting his eyes on the smooth, pale column of Cory’s form, the pink nipples, now slightly erect in the cool air of the room, and the wisps of blond public hair. He wrapped his arms around Cory’s hips, lightly cupping his ass, and pulled Cory toward him, where they stood rocking against each other.

They stayed that way, breathing in each other’s scent and savoring their closeness, for quite some time, until Gordon said, “I wanna be inside ya. Is that okay?”

So funny, this Gordon. “Sure, it’s okay. I’m yours for the night, remember?”

Gordon nuzzled and cuddled into the crook of his neck. “Yeah, I remember. I was bein’ polite. ‘Sides, it’s not like I know what I’m doin’, exactly, so I’m gonna need your help.”

Cory kissed the top of Gordon’s head, right where the whorls of his hair began. “Sure,” he said huskily, and reached for the lube. “You’ll need this.”

Gordon took the tube and examined it before flipping the cap open. As he squeezed, Cory said, “Coat your index finger first.”

“Does it matter which one?” Gordon said, curious.

“No, use whichever hand is more comfortable for you.” Cory interrupted his instructions about lubrication to ask, “Where do you want me?”

Gordon thought a moment, then said, “On your back.”

Cory moved to comply. For now, he merely spread his legs, with them bent at the knee and his feet on the bed. There was enough time for him to raise his legs up in the air and feet off the bed when Gordon began the prep in earnest, he figured.

Cory continued, “Ease the finger inside. Try to go straight in at first, then hook your finger around and search for a mound of tissue. That’s the prostate.”

Gordon slowly and carefully pushed inside with the single slicked finger. He didn’t want to hurt Cory. Once he was inside as far as it felt he could comfortably go, he curled the tip of the finger slightly and began feeling around for the mass of tissue Cory had described.

“Is this it?” he asked as he pressed on it.

Cory’s reaction was answer enough, as he arched off the bed and moaned, but he added, “Fuck, yes. You found it. You don’t need to press so hard, though”

Gordon moved his finger away hastily. “It’s okay. You can put some pressure on it, just not a lot.”

Gordon proceeded to move his finger in and out of Cory, as Cory had done to him, occasionally curving the tip around to strike that sensitive spot and make Cory moan. Cory’s moans became more uninhibited on each succeeding occasion.

Eventually, Cory said, “That’s enough for one finger. Now, take it out and slick that finger and the one next to it.” He hissed, almost wincing, when Gordon removed his finger. It wasn’t that the kid did it too fast, but he’d gotten accustomed to having Gordon’s finger stuck up his ass.

He felt achingly empty while Gordon squeezed more lubricant onto his first two fingers. “That’s it. Hold both fingers as close together and as still as you can, then insert them.”

Gordon did so, more hesitantly this time, since he was using two fingers and didn’t want to hurt Cory. “You don’t have to be so delicate about it,” Cory groused. “You’re not gonna break me.”

“But I don’t wanna hurt ya either,” Gordon said plaintively.

“Don’t worry about it. You’re being really careful and gentle. And I’ll tell you if it—ah!”

An involuntary moan interrupted Cory’s instructions as Gordon hit that sensitive spot again. “Feels good?” Gordon asked, grinning.

“You could – ah! – say that,” Cory responded, his face scrunched up, trying hard not to be reduced to a moaning, incoherent puddle of goo. After a few seconds, he added, “You can move the fingers away from each other a little to stretch me. Plus keep doing the in and out thing.”

Gordon followed his instructions, every so often nailing Cory’s prostate while fluttering his fingers apart, stretching Cory, and moving the fingers in and out in tandem. Cory began thrusting back against his fingers, which served to encourage Gordon further as the two of them fell into a pattern.

“That’s enough for that,” Cory panted. “Three fingers is common, but it’s not necessary.”

“Ya sure?” Gordon said, concerned.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Cory replied.

Gordon flipped open the tube of lube again. “Slick yourself,” Cory said, but Gordon didn’t need the reminder.

Since he was determined to make sure this was a pleasurable experience for Cory as well as for himself, Gordon took care while coating his cock with lube. He situated himself between Cory’s legs, stroking his inner thighs and making him quiver. Cory helped Gordon aim his cock until Gordon thrust in, pushing past that first circle of muscle and its resistance until he was engulfed in the heat of Cory’s body.

Gordon wrinkled his face in concentration and moved tentatively until Cory grabbed his wrists and hissed, “Harder!” Gordon’s eyes widened; he glanced at Cory and sped up his thrusts, seeing the fierce expression on Cory’s face. “Like that?” he gasped, the effort making it difficult for him to continue moving the way Cory wanted, breathe, and talk all at the same time.

“Yes,” Cory replied, his eyes closing as he concentrated on the sensations Gordon was producing in him. Getting fucked was nothing new and usually was no big deal. He knew being on top for the first time was significant for Gordon, but he also knew that wasn’t the only reason the experience was special; he could tell that Gordon had fallen for him. Whether it was because Cory had known and rescued him before, because Gordon had enjoyed his first time so much, or because he was just a hopeless romantic, Cory couldn’t say; the one thing he did know was that it wasn’t because he was intrinsically loveable. After his father had died, he’d made sure no one found him loveable; that way, he didn’t have to cope with any more loss and grief. He’d had enough of both to last a lifetime.

With Gordon, what was pretense with others was heartfelt and sincere. It scared him, but it was also liberating. Maybe he would act on his thoughts from their prior encounter and ask Gordon to return, this time as his guest, not as a client. Not now; it was too soon. In the morning, maybe, just before Gordon had to leave. He didn’t really have to break things off with him now, did he?

Despite his athleticism, Gordon was panting and out of breath, his heart racing like he’d consumed too many cups of coffee. He could hardly believe that he was fucking Cory, whose eyes were closed and was writhing underneath him. It felt amazing, maybe even better than when Cory had fucked him.

He wasn’t sure if Cory would come without any direct stimulation, so he began stroking his cock. Cory was so erect that his cock was curled up, almost touching his stomach. Gordon felt the onrush of Cory’s climax and witnessed the change in his expression as he came.

As he felt Cory’s come, Gordon’s muscles clenched, his balls lifted, and he came too, crying Cory’s name. They collapsed into each other’s arms, sated and satisfied, and stayed that way for a long time until Cory rolled Gordon over and went to get washcloths to clean them up with.

“Do you want to take a shower now?” Cory asked. “You might not have that much time in the morning.”

“Nah,” said Gordon. “I’ll wait till I’m back at the fraternity house.”

Cory was going to wait until after Gordon had left to wash up. At least this time he’d get to spend some time luxuriating in Gordon’s distinctive, earthy smell. In the morning, he’d tell Gordon he wanted to see him again, man to man, not as prostitute and client.

Gordon yawned. “It’s late an’ I’m tired. I dunno about you, but I’m gonna go to sleep.”

Cory smiled faintly at him. “I’m a bit tired too. Let’s both go to sleep here.” He pulled back the covers and crawled into the bed, with its fresh, smooth linens.

Gordon followed suit and curled up next to Cory, his head on Cory’s shoulder. ”Didn’t ya say that ya sleep in a bed in the other room?” Gordon whispered.

“Yes, but not when a client stays all night.”

“Oh.”

Truthfully, Gordon was tired, but his mind was racing. Although he’d very much enjoyed what they’d just done, he was beginning to think there was no way the two of them could have a relationship that didn’t involve money. How could he ask Cory to give up his livelihood? He was beginning to realize that Hakkai had been right: he couldn’t tolerate what Cory did for a living if they became lovers. The idea that they were sleeping where Cory slept with and was fucked by countless others stung.

Facing away from Cory so he wouldn’t see his frown, Gordon decided that he’d get up early in the morning, leave Cory a note, and sneak out, giving Hakkai a call to pick him up before he left. A clean break would be better. It wouldn’t hurt as much as letting this go on would. He had the ability to wake himself up at a specific time when he needed to.

Gordon’s eyes watered and stung him. His decision was ripping him apart inside. This was going to be damn hard to do. He thought he’d found his soul mate when he realized Cory was the person who had rescued him, but he’d been wrong. Cory might like him, but he was really just another one of Cory’s tricks. The thought of others touching Cory, caressing him, doing with and to him what Gordon had just done, made him so angry that it was all Gordon could do not to shake with rage.

It took Gordon a long time to get to sleep, even though Cory held him in a tight embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tulane University and Loyola University New Orleans are existing institutions of higher education in New Orleans and the Lower Garden District is a neighborhood that is more or less halfway between the uptown district where those universities are located and the French Quarter and downtown area more familiar to tourists. I’ve tried to be as accurate in my depiction of the universities, New Orleans, and its neighborhoods as possible; to that end, I consulted the Wikipedia articles on both universities as well as their own websites. Nevertheless, just to be clear, I am using the locations fictitiously. No slander or defamation of these institutions of higher education is intended, just realism.
> 
> The fraternity and its residential house are fictional; however, according to Wikipedia, Loyola New Orleans has fifteen sororities and fraternities to which 20% of the student body belong, but no such organizations currently maintain a house as a residence for its members. The last such edifice was destroyed by fire in 2006.
> 
> The description of the tuition benefits provided to the children of Tulane faculty members is, of necessity, fictional, as I’m not privy to that kind of information, but they are generally typical of the benefits universities provide to their employees. I can’t guarantee, however, that children of deceased faculty members are left out in the cold, as depicted here, but it’s plausible. I needed to explain why Cory wound up working in his aunt’s business after his father died. Just to clarify: though it will become evident later on, Cory did start having sex in exchange for money until after he turned eighteen (and Connie wouldn’t have allowed him to before then, irrespective of his feelings about it), and he could have chosen to do something else; he just had no resources with which to do it, nor any desire to, for instance, work in retail hell or as a waiter.
> 
> Finally, I apologize to Tulane University for saddling it with as wayward a professor as Dr. Nielsen. I suppose having Kevin Sanzo as an alumnus and professor compensates for it somewhat, but not entirely.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after their last night together as prostitute and customer, Gordon (Goku) tries to sneak away before Cory (Sanzo) awakens. Will he keep his resolution to break things off, or will Cory convince him to stay?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters who appear or are mentioned in this chapter:
> 
> Gordon Smalls = Son Goku  
> Cory Sanzo = Genjyo Sanzo  
> Hakkai Cho = Cho Hakkai  
> Kanan Cho = Cho Kanan  
> JoJo = Gojyo   
> Jimmy = Jiroushin

Gordon woke with a start. The soft glow of dawn filtered through the slats of the blinds, but the light barely reached the windowless room where he and Cory lay. He hoped it was still early enough for him to sneak away without waking Cory up.

According to the display on the VCR/DVD player, it was almost six. He’d hoped to be up by five, but his racing thoughts had prevented sleep for a long time and when he had managed it, his sleep hadn’t been all that restful even though Cory held him close. During the night, he had even turned away so that Cory couldn’t tell he was scowling and teary-eyed over his realization that he couldn’t possibly maintain a relationship with him. Even if Cory wanted to see him outside of the job, the helpless rage he felt when he thought of all the others Cory had slept with on the very same bed because they were willing to pay his price let Gordon know that it was hopeless. It didn’t matter that this made him a hypocrite too, considering that was how he and Cory had met.

His joints and muscles were stiff and sore from remaining in the same position all night and the way Cory clutched at him made getting out of bed difficult. Gordon wriggled, trying to stretch and find a way to break Cory’s hold without disturbing his sleep.

Cory made a strangled noise that sounded like “mmph” and rolled over a half turn, leaving Gordon an opening. He lingered for a moment to ensure that these weren’t signs that Cory was waking up, then leaned to the side and eased himself toward the floor.

He had only just cautiously slid onto the floor when Cory rolled toward the spot he had just vacated and felt around for the warmth of his body. Finding Gordon absent, Cory reached out until his fingertips brushed Gordon’s arm.

Gordon froze. Cory’s fingers traveled down his arm until they clasped his hand. Gordon reluctantly turned to look at him.

Cory’s eyes were partially open and hazy with sleep. “Don’t leave,” he said.

Cory knew he was trying to sneak away! Gordon panicked. He didn’t want to hurt Cory’s feelings, and sneaking away the way he’d planned would at the very least bewilder him, especially since he’d shown no signs of discontent the night before.

Then he realized that he was leaping to conclusions. Cory wasn’t a mind reader and didn’t know the reason he was getting out of bed so early. He _couldn’t_ know. Gordon could offer an innocuous explanation, lull him back to sleep, and then leave after writing a note explaining that he fled to make a clean break, not because he didn’t like Cory.

He wasn’t capable of explaining any of this face-to-face, and even if he could he was afraid his resolve would crumble if Cory put any effort into persuading him to change his mind.

“I gotta go pee,” Gordon said to explain away what he’d been doing and the odd position in which Cory had found him. Though it wasn’t the reason why he woke up, it wasn’t a lie, either.

“Come back to bed when you’re finished,” Cory said.

Gordon walked to the bathroom and shut the door. Cory heard the stream of urine hitting the toilet, the whoosh of the toilet flushing, the splash of running water, and the creak of the door signaling Gordon’s emergence from the bathroom.

Cory had noticed the tension in Gordon’s muscles after they’d crawled between the sheets and Gordon had asked him about the bed in the other room. Maybe being confronted with the fact that he was lying where Cory brought other clients had stirred feelings of jealousy. If that was the case, Cory couldn’t exactly blame him for it; Cory had already thought the same before realizing that he wasn’t ready to give Gordon up. He hoped to convince Gordon to see things that way too.

Cory couldn’t do anything about it when he noticed it, though, so he’d taken the precaution of wrapping his arms around Gordon to make it more difficult for him to sneak away and to provide some warning if he tried it anyway. He’d been certain he would be able to think more clearly later, after the post-orgasmic haze wore off.

Now Cory had no time to think, only time to react. He had to be careful not to push Gordon away or to draw him too close. Come down too hard, and he might alienate him, but it also wouldn’t help for him to show so much warmth that Gordon refrained from voicing his qualms.

Cory sat up and patted the bed as Gordon slowly walked toward him. He told him, “Sit down.”

Gordon was apprehensive. Cory didn’t look like he was going back to sleep anytime soon. At this rate, Gordon wouldn’t be able to sneak out, and the idea of using sex to lull Cory back to sleep and then leave was becoming more impractical with each passing minute.

Besides, Cory looked so wary and anxious that Gordon wasn’t sure he could relax enough to go back to sleep anyway. Was he capable of explaining himself well enough to convince Cory to let him leave without an argument? But if Cory persuaded him to stay, things would go on as they had and nothing would be dealt with. This was why he’d planned on slipping out and leaving a note instead. Maybe it was cowardly, but it was the only way he could think of to end things and avoid future heartache.

If he couldn’t explain his feelings to Cory, though, maybe he was better off sticking it out, pretending everything was fine, and putting his feelings for Cory behind him as soon as he left. Gordon wasn’t so egotistical as to think that Cory would make an effort to get in touch with him on his own initiative. He was just another trick; why would some personal chemistry and a shared past change that?

Gordon reached the bed and sat on its edge. “Ya wanna go again?” he asked. “Ya can do me this time.” His smile was heartbreaking.

“We need to talk first.”

Gordon’s heart sank, and his smile disappeared. “What do ya wanna talk about?” he asked in a careful tone, acutely aware that he was naked. Cory seemed comfortable with it, but Gordon found it disconcerting to have a serious conversation that was not about sex while completely naked.

“About the two of us.”

“Whaddya mean, ‘about us’? There is no ‘us’.”

Cory reached toward Gordon, who leaned over, looking for some clothing to wear. “If you think that,” Cory said fiercely, “you must not have been paying attention. Sex with you feels just… just right somehow. Better than with anyone else. I thought you felt it too.”

Gordon found his underpants and pulled them on. “I did, but Hakkai said—” Gordon clapped his hands over his mouth. He shouldn’t have mentioned Hakkai. He wondered if Cory had confronted Hakkai the way he did when they arrived because he was jealous.

“What is Hakkai to you?” Cory said, his prior suspicions roaring back to life and his voice taking on a sharp tone. “Did he accompany you here and pay in order for you to learn how to please him?”

Gordon was so taken aback, all he could was open and close his mouth. He looked like one of those guppies in the fish tanks at pet stores.

“Hakkai’s my friend,” he said finally, when he got himself under control. “He isn’t interested in me that way. He just wants me to be happy and at peace with myself. JoJo woulda helped pay too, but Hakkai told him to keep his money because Hakkai’s better off than either of us are.” He punctuated his statement by crossing his arms and glaring.

“Rich people don’t pay for poor people’s pleasures without expecting something in return.”

Gordon put his hands on his hips and yelled, “Yeah, well, that’s _your_ experience. Given what ya do, no wonder ya wouldn’t recognize friendship and generosity if they slapped ya in the face!”

Gordon held his breath, waiting for Cory to tell him to leave, or worse, once the enormity of what he had just said dawned on him.

Cory swatted at Gordon and came within an inch of slapping Gordon’s face. “What the fuck? Do you think less of me because of what I do? That’s pretty cowardly and hypocritical of you, especially considering how we met.”

“Wait, wait—” Gordon’s brain scrambled to keep up with what Cory was saying. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Then how did you mean it?”

Gordon slumped over and looked down while twisting the sheets in his hands. “I’m sorry. I’m just fed up. Not with ya, exactly, but with the whole situation.” He took a deep breath, and the next words came out in a rush. “I can’t stand thinkin’ about the other people you’ve slept with here, in this very bed. Maybe it makes me a coward and a hypocrite, like ya said, but I was jus’ tryin’ to figure out how to make a clean break.”

“You mean you were trying to figure out how to sneak out of here.”

“Look, Cory, don’t be mad! It’s not that I don’t like ya. It’s that I like ya too much!”

“What does _that_ mean?” Cory wasn’t sure how the conversation had escalated out of control like this, but he didn’t know how to pull back from it, even if it meant that Gordon might bolt.

Gordon, for his part, was also wondering how the conversation had turned so heated. He’d meant to ease away and let things cool down between them, and here he was, pouring his heart out. In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought, and flung his arms around Cory, who stiffened in surprise. “I want ya all ta myself!”

Cory gingerly extricated himself from Gordon’s embrace. “That’s not how it works.”

“I know that! That’s why I wanted ta end things here.”

Shit, now he’d gone and put his foot in it.

Cory’s eyes narrowed. “So this was supposed to be goodbye? What if I didn’t want to say goodbye? Would that make a difference to you? Or am I too tainted to be worth sticking around for?” he said bitterly, his mouth twisting.

“Wait, what? Ya mean ya didn’t expect this to be the end? Ya do know I can’t pay for more sessions, right?”

“This isn’t about more sessions. I want to continue to see you outside of work. I want us to be friends, maybe more. I was worried that you’d leave before I had a chance to tell you.”

Gordon frowned. “When ya say ya want to be friends, what do ya mean?”

Cory rolled his eyes. “What people normally mean when they say they want to be friends!” He figured that getting to know each other better as people would make it easier for Gordon to keep Cory the man separate from Cory the whore.

“What did ya have in mind?”

“Going for coffee, or lunch, or something like that. What we do isn’t as important as whether you’re interested.”

Gordon nibbled on his lower lip. “I’m not sure I can handle bein’ just your friend. But it wouldn’t be fair of me to have sex without paying either, since it’s how ya support yourself.” He added, “I’m not interested in ya only because of the sex. It’s because the sex is so good that I’m jealous of all the other people ya have sex with because of your work.”

“If things progressed that far, would it help if we went to a hotel?” Cory figured that it wouldn’t be practical for him to visit Gordon at the frat house. Who he was and what he did for a living was likely to make things awkward. “That way, we’d be on neutral territory, and it might remind you less of what I do with other people.”

Gordon stared at him. “I can’t afford that.”

“I can pay, at least for a few times.”

“Wouldn’t you feel like you were givin’ it away as well as payin’ for it?” Besides, it would bother Gordon if they had to resort to a hotel; that in itself would remind him that Cory’s profession had made using a hotel necessary. Cory paying for it would make Gordon feel like he was taking advantage of him, almost as if their roles were reversed. But at least Cory’s willingness to spend his own money showed he was sincere.

Cory sighed. It was true that there were times he met clients in hotel rooms; that was why he could get rooms at more favorable rates than most people could. “How about coming here? Other people bring their lovers here outside of working hours.” He was getting a little ahead of himself, but that was okay, as long as it kept Gordon from leaving for good.

“So where do they sleep?”

“Where they sleep when they’re not working.”

“Won’t you get in trouble?”

“Others have done it. Besides, being related to the owner should be good for something.”

“Well, if you’re sure.” Gordon was still nervous about visiting Cory here, yet he couldn’t exactly articulate why. Since he’d told Cory how his profession made him feel and Cory not only had taken him seriously but had also made a suggestion as to how they could still see each other, he felt he should give the suggestion a fair shake. As he’d thought, it had proved impossible for him to walk away from Cory face-to-face. “I still don’t like the idea of you being with other men, but it’s worth trying if there’s somewhere we can sleep that is different from where you sleep with clients.”

“Good.” Cory looked relieved. “You have a couple of more hours coming to you. Can I make it worth your while?”

Gordon grinned and said, “Can we try out the bed in the other room now?”

Cory ran his fingers through his hair, which was still disheveled from the prior night. “I guess so. I have to warn you, though, it’s narrow and I don’t know how comfortable it’ll be for two.”

As Cory twined his fingers with Gordon’s and led him into his bedroom, Gordon said, “I gotta explain why Hakkai is doing this. He had second thoughts afterward because—” He stopped, realizing that he was about to reveal how hard he’d fallen for Cory. He looked down at his feet and mumbled, “Because he thought I was too excited about meetin’ ya again and I was gonna to get hurt because of what ya do.”

“Oh.” Cory could understand why Hakkai might feel protective toward Gordon, but that still didn’t explain why he was willing to spend so much money on him.

They sat on Cory’s tidy but unprepossessing bed. The comforter was a plain navy blue and the sheets were nowhere near as luxurious as the ones on the other bed.

Cory slid his arm around Gordon’s shoulder to pull him toward him for a kiss, but Gordon resisted and pulled away. “What—” Cory sputtered. He’d thought they’d worked things out, and he was half hard already

“Sorry,” Gordon said, staring at the floor again, the tidy wooden boards and braided rug a contrast to the other room’s fancier furnishings. “I gotta finish clearing things up about Hakkai first.” Cory sat cross-legged on the bed, leaning back and supporting himself on his palms. Looking at him, Gordon was still taken aback by how comfortable Cory was with sitting around naked.

“Go ahead,” Cory said, wondering what Gordon was about to reveal.

“Hakkai was engaged to a girl from his father’s hometown in China. She was a second or third cousin or somethin’, her name was Kanan, and she was a year or two younger than him.

“Their marriage had been planned ever since she was born, and they’d been engaged for years. Hakkai would have complained at being told who to marry, but they’d always gotten along well, like brother and sister, almost, excep’ with less quarrelin’. They got along so well that if the arrangement hadn’t existed, he might've married her anyway. Marriages among cousins aren’t that uncommon and they felt like they were soulmates meant for each other, Hakkai tol’ me. Their engagement also meant the business would remain in the family.

“Then one day when she was in New Orleans visitin’ him, some thugs kidnapped them. They planned to demand a huge ransom from Hakkai’s folks, one that would have nearly bankrupted 'em and crippled the business. They got Hakkai to agree to go on tape and beg his parents to pay for it, but Kanan wouldn’t go along and lashed out at them, and they...”

“They what?” Cory prompted. He thought he knew why Gordon hesitated. _They raped her_.

Gordon began fiddling with his hands. “They attacked her right in front of Hakkai and taunted him.” He hesitated, then added, “What made it worse was that the two of them had never, uh...”

“Been intimate?” Cory suggested

“Yeah.” Gordon’s shoulders sagged with relief that he hadn’t had to spell it out. “Hakkai was forced to watch someone else be Kanan’s first. He felt sick to his stomach, but he also felt like a peepin’ Tom. They even made it seem like she was enjoyin’ herself.” He looked at Cory, alarmed. “Don’t ever tell Hakkai I told you this.”

Cory nodded. “Okay. I won’t.” It was an easy promise to make, since he didn’t expect to be around Hakkai enough for it to matter anyway.

“She was mortified at what they’d done to her and Hakkai witnessing it all. I guess she thought Hakkai wouldn’t want her and that she wasn’t worthy of him anymore, so she swiped a knife from one of their captors and plunged it into her chest. She died right in front of him, and he couldn’t do nothin’ about it”

Cory made a noise like he was clearing his throat. Maybe being rich didn’t insulate you from all of the sordidness in the world.

Gordon examined his fingernails. “So now releasing them back to Hakkai’s family in exchange for ransom is out the window. The kidnappers might still have planned to ask for ransom anyway, but they only have Hakkai to use as bait.”

Cory broke in. He’d watched enough police procedurals on TV to know where Gordon was headed with this. “They needed to make sure there were no witnesses who could identify them.”

Gordon swallowed hard and nodded. “Right. They used the same knife on Hakkai as Kanan had used on herself, excep’ they weren’t as efficient. They sliced him up and left him for dead, but he wasn’t, and he crawled a little ways away where JoJo stumbled across him.”

Cory was so caught up in the story that he had almost forgotten the purpose of the tale. “So JoJo rescued him?”

“Yeah, he shoved his guts back in, called 911, and got ‘im to a hospital in time. At first Hakkai was mad that he hadn’t died – he had expected to be reunited with Kanan - but his parents were grateful, and Hakkai knew the guy was only tryin’ ta help him. Hakkai encouraged JoJo to join the fraternity and his family pays JoJo’s dues.” He paused a moment and remembered that he wouldn’t be alive either if it weren’t for Cory, just like Hakkai wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for JoJo.

He wondered if Cory was thinking about that too; his face bore a thoughtful expression he hadn’t noticed before. “It made Hakkai realize how short life is and how important it is to live it to its fullest. He wishes that he and Kanan had made more of their time together instead of putting everything off for the future. So when he can, he helps other people receive what makes them happy without havin’ ta wait for it forever.”

Cory’s mind boggled at the thought of Hakkai being some sort of sexual benefactor to his friends. If Hakkai thought his was a weird vocation, maybe he should look more closely at how he spent his money. “So did he help JoJo out the same way?”

“JoJo doesn’t need any help gettin’ laid. He’s got tons of girls after him.”

“So why you?” Cory asked. “Is he paying for your fraternity membership too?”

“Nah. My brother was in it, so I’m kind of like a legacy. And the fraternity has funds so that kids who otherwise couldn’t afford ta can join, but Hakkai’s help meant JoJo didn’t need it, which meant funds were available for someone else.

“I didn’t have a social life back home because I didn’t know any other guys my age who were into guys. It woulda been near impossible to get together with anyone anyway. Social life there revolves around church functions and the VFW. Here in New Orleans, there are plenty of gay guys, but most are a bit more, uh, out there than I’m used to, an’ none of the kids I know at school are gay. It doesn’t help that the college is Jesuit-affiliated either, considerin’ the Catholic Church’s attitude toward homosexuality.”

“Yeah,” Cory said, “it’s fine to sweep pedophile priests preying on altar boys under the rug, but homosexual conduct is a sin. I’d be condemned for what I do when what they’ve hushed up is ten times worse.”

“It’s kinda hypocritical, isn’t it?”

Cory shook it off and turned toward Gordon. “Whatever it is, we should make the best of the time that’s left.” He pushed Gordon down on the bed and ran his hands over Gordon’s body. His hand disappeared inside Gordon’s shorts as he took hold of Gordon’s cock.

“Are ya cool with me and Hakkai now?” Gordon panted

Cory’s voice was muffled because his lips were pressed against Gordon’s unruly hair. “I still don’t completely understand it, but I get what you’re saying.”

“Good,” Gordon said, and let himself relax while Cory removed his undershorts and tossed them on the floor. The way his erection throbbed and twitched as it rubbed against Cory’s so good. He wondered how he ever considered giving him up.

Cory moved from side to side, rubbing his erection against Gordon’s. Before excessive contact could cause any irritation, he stopped and used his thumb to caress the tip of Gordon’s cock, which was already dripping with pre-cum. Every so often, he grasped the base with his other hand, raised his thumb to his mouth, and slowly licked as Gordon watched.

Cory wrapped his arms around Gordon and flipped him over, nearly dumping them both on the floor. He gently swatted Gordon’s behind to get him to move until he was positioned above Cory’s face. Cory opened his mouth so Gordon could lower his cock into it.

Gordon groaned as Cory deep-throated him. He couldn’t help but buck and thrust as Cory steadied him by gripping his hips, helping him to lift up and thrust down into Cory’s waiting mouth.

When Cory moved his hands away, stilling Gordon’s movements so he wouldn’t topple over, Gordon was confused. He heard a plastic top snap open and then felt a slick finger push inside of him.

Gordon leaned forward, draping himself over Cory while barely avoiding hitting his head on the headboard. He bit down on a moan as Cory fingered him, thrust back and panted while Cory smirked. Gordon’s recent round of activity had improved his stamina, but he soon reached his breaking point when Cory hummed around his cock, lips vibrating.

Gordon tossed his head, arched his back, and gave a loud cry as semen spurted into Cory’s mouth. Gordon watched Cory swallow and wondered why that was such a turn on. Maybe Cory was playacting, but the way his eyelids fluttered closed and the way he looked as though swallowing Gordon’s come had made him orgasm too ramped up Gordon’s desire.

Gordon hadn’t understood why boys his age were fixated on sex to the exclusion of everything else. He was beginning to understand. Sex was heaven and ecstasy and release all wrapped up together. It left him wanting more. No matter how satisfying it was, each successive sex act increased his desire rather than satisfying it.

Due to the narrowness of the bed, when he rolled to the side, Gordon wound up half-seated on Cory’s left hip. Cory cradled Gordon so he wouldn’t roll off the bed, the solace of skin-to-skin contact a bonus.

They remained half-cuddling like this for some time until Cory realized with a start that it was nearly seven. Gordon was supposed to leave at eight. Cory checked to make sure he hadn’t fallen asleep.

He discovered that Gordon was still awake; he’d gotten comfortable and had zoned out. Cory prodded him to get his attention and said, “Your time is up in an hour – less, actually. What do you want to do now?”

Gordon got up, walked over to the window, and moved the blind partway so he could look outside, though the view was overlooking the alleyway in back wasn’t particularly interesting. Gordon noticed clouds scudding by and hoped that the rain would hold off until after he returned to the fraternity house.

He returned to the bed and straddled Cory in one smooth motion. He rocked his hips so the tip of his cock slid against Cory’s. “Wanna fuck again,” he said.

Cory grasped his hips. “Then ride me,” he told Gordon.

Gordon frowned, puzzled at his wording. Cory slicked lubricant on his penis. He helped Gordon sit up so he was kneeling above Cory’s pelvis. Cory then guided him down until Cory’s cock slid inside him, the earlier fingering and lubrication helping to ease the way in.

Gordon made needy, panting noises as he let himself experience the stimulation and control this position gave him. Once Cory was fully sheathed inside him, he lifted Gordon up until only the tip of his cock remained inside. Together they established a rhythm of Gordon lifting himself away from Cory and dropping –nearly slamming – back down and of Cory thrusting upward in time with him, driving himself deeper inside. Cory made needy noises too; Gordon’s volume increased and eventually he huffed and puffed, out of breath.

Cory thought about capturing Gordon’s cock in his mouth and sucking him off while still fucking him, a feat that never failed to impress clients, but the night had been rigorous enough that he wasn’t sure he could pull it off without straining his muscles. He wrapped a hand around Gordon’s cock instead and began jacking Gordon off.

Cory timed his attentions to Gordon’s cock so they came nearly simultaneously, Gordon with a strangled cry and Cory with a grunt. Gordon collapsed to the side, Cory’s softening cock slipping out of him. He flung his arms around Cory’s neck, and shared a hungry kiss with him. They could smell the scent of shampoo on each other’s hair, the salt of their sweat, and the musky tang of sex. After a few minutes coming down from their orgasmic high, their breathing evened out and they burrowed into each other’s arms.

Cory slid out from underneath Gordon and got damp washcloths for both of them. As they wiped themselves off, he asked, “When can we get together? How about meeting at the café that I walk to almost every day?”

Gordon thought about his schedule. The rest of his weekend was full, and Cory probably was busy too. “How about next Sunday – I mean, a week from tomorrow? Does that work for you?”

“Yeah, it does. I don’t usually have many appointments on Sunday. I don’t have anything scheduled then, and I’ll make sure Jimmy leaves the day open. How about meeting for lunch?”

“Fine. Just don’t make it too early.”

“I usually work late on Saturdays anyway, so that’s not a problem. How does one o’clock sound? Is that good?”

“Sure.” Gordon walked back into the anteroom, pulled a small notebook out of his pants pocket, and checked a page. “My schedule’s clear.” He looked around for a pen or pencil and when he didn’t see one, he asked Cory for something to write with. He noted the time of their meeting, the name of the café, and the address. “I’ll take the bus,” he promised. That way, he wouldn’t need Hakkai’s help to get there.

While he was in the other room, Gordon retrieved his clothes as well. When he came back, Cory grabbed his wrist and said, “Lunch is on me.”

Gordon lifted his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything. He figured that Cory felt he should pay because he had suggested going there and because he worked and Gordon didn’t. Besides, Cory probably wanted to demonstrate that he had enough money to take Gordon places and do more than just hang out together.

Both of them got dressed. Watching Cory get dressed out of the corner of his eye made Gordon’s jeans feel a little too tight, and he blushed and looked away.

Now that it was nearly time to leave, Gordon was feeling shy and bereft. Shy, because it was dawning on him that the next time they met, he would be on unfamiliar territory and wouldn’t have anyone around to help him through it. He wasn’t sure what to talk about. Maybe their conversation would dry up as soon as they’d exhausted the subject of Vacherie, the only point of commonality they had other than the sex Cory had been paid for.

He hoped their date wouldn’t be like the awkward dates with girls that he went on during high school because it was expected of him and because he wanted some semblance of a social life. When he and his date were by themselves, he had been tongue-tied and couldn’t think of a thing to say or do.

He felt bereft because it would be more than a week before he saw Cory again, and sex wasn’t likely to be part of the equation. Cory had billed their meeting as an opportunity for them to get to know each other and had suggested that they try becoming friends first before becoming lovers. As much as Gordon wanted to leap over that step, he understood why Cory didn’t. Besides, unless Cory invited him back to his room, there wasn’t anyplace available where they could have sex comfortably.

A call from Jimmy let them know that Mr. Cho was waiting for Gordon at the front desk.

“Good-bye,” Gordon said.

Cory grabbed and hugged him, but quickly let go. He rummaged around in a drawer and produced a card with the House’s address and telephone number. He scrawled another telephone number on the back and pressed the card into Gordon’s hand.

“That’s my private cell,” Cory said. “You can call me if you want to. Just don’t expect me to pick up at night.”

After sharing one more kiss, Gordon turned around to leave, slightly choked up, when Cory grabbed his shoulder. “I’ll see you downstairs,” he said, wrapping an arm around his waist and walking him down the stairs.

Hakkai sucked in his breath in surprise when he saw Cory’s downcast expression. It reminded him of one he’d seen on Kanan. Unless the man was a better actor than he gave him credit for, maybe he really did care about Gordon and wasn’t just in it to take advantage of his youthful enthusiasm.

As he strolled down the staircase, Gordon waved to Hakkai, grinning. “Hiya!” he called. He had a lot to tell his friend. Cory had suspected how Gordon felt, which suggested that he was more considerate of the feelings of others than he appeared to be. The sex had been great. They fit together so well that it was as if they had been made for each other.

Cory made a point of shaking Hakkai’s hand. Hakkai raised his eyebrows in surprise, but was too well-mannered to ask why Cory was acting so friendly all of a sudden. He smiled politely instead, said, “Thank you for taking care of Gordon,” and turned around to leave.

Gordon gave Cory a quick kiss, mindful that Jimmy was watching them. He followed Hakkai, pausing on his way out the door to wave.

“He’s a fine young specimen,” Jimmy said.

“He’s not a specimen,” Cory retorted.

“He’s a fine, upstanding young gentleman who you must be interested in for reasons other than work to go to all the trouble of accompanying him down here. Perhaps I should circle the date on the calendar.”

They continued bantering for a few minutes until Cory headed back upstairs. Jimmy hoped that Cory’s interest in the kid wasn’t a bad sign. Mostly he hoped that Cory remembered that House rules prohibited clients, both current and former, from visiting residents there. They could meet elsewhere, but it was too confusing and open to abuse to keep using the House for assignations when someone went from client to lover like that. It was only outsiders who had never been clients who were permitted to visit the residents’ rooms.

Gordon chatted happily with Hakkai on the way to his car, recounting their discussion and telling him about his upcoming date with Cory. Hakkai thought that what Cory had suggested sounded sensible. Maybe he wasn’t out to manipulate Gordon for his own benefit after all. “I’m glad things worked out,” he told Gordon.

Gordon grinned. “Me too. I’m so glad I didn’t sneak away before Cory asked me out! That would've been terrible.” Next Sunday felt like it was a lifetime away. Gordon knew time would crawl until the day was almost upon him and then he would probably freak out. But the anxiety was worth it to be able to see Cory again!

Hakkai had no words of caution to share this time. Given what he’d seen and been told, he didn’t think they were needed any more.

 

Next chapter: Cory and Gordon meet outside the confines of the House for the first time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Nielsen (Nii) visits Cory (Sanzo) again; Cory and Gordon (Goku) meet for their first date. Will the spark between them be enough to sustain a friendship, let alone a relationship?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters who appear or are mentioned in this chapter:
> 
> Cory Sanzo = Genjyo Sanzo (think Kouryuu as the source for the name)  
> Linda = Lirin  
> Yvonne = Yaone  
> Gustav = the cook (not any character in particular)   
> Connie (Cory’s aunt) = Kanzeon Bosatsu  
> Jimmy = Jiroushin  
> Dr. Nielsen = Nii   
> Lady Koushou = Gyokumen Koushou   
> Gordon Smalls = Son Goku  
> Hakkai Cho = Cho Hakkai  
> JoJo Shaw = Sha Gojyo

Cory spent what was left of the day in his room. He didn’t even bother to stop in at the neighborhood café. If he hoped to get through the night he had ahead of him, he needed to rest. At the time his assignation with Gordon had seemed exhilarating rather than exhausting, but now he felt like a wrung-out rag. He fell into a deep sleep after stretching out on the couch to read a book.

He woke up just after five, groaned, and wandered downstairs to the communal dining room. Gustav the cook glared while ladling chowder into a bowl. Busty Linda, slender Yvonne, and a few others sat in a corner, giggling. Without their makeup and work clothes, they looked more like the barely-out-of-their-teens young women they should have been than the hardened hookers they’d become.

He grabbed crackers to go with his chowder and sat as far away from the giggling girls as possible. Everyone else left him alone, and he returned the favor.

He sipped his soup slowly, stopping on occasion to dip a cracker into the creamy broth. He then pushed the bowl away and poured himself some coffee, thankful that it was extra strong. Once he’d finished that one, he poured another to take to his room.

Almost running into Connie on his way there made him thankful he’d remembered to put a lid on the Styrofoam cup. “How are you?” she asked, stepping back to inspect him. “I haven’t seen you much lately.”

“Fine. Got a busy night.”

“Take care of yourself. You look tired.”

“I will,” he promised, turning the doorknob and escaping to his room.

* * *

Dr. Nielsen knocked on the door this time after walking upstairs on his own. Jimmy had called Cory to warn him Nielsen was on his way. Cory thought it was bad form for Nielsen to wander around unaccompanied as if he owned the place.

“Come in,” Cory yelled in response to the knock. He had made sure to wash thoroughly beforehand. He didn’t want Nielsen asking about his other clients again, especially not Gordon.

He hoped Nielsen had forgotten about that kiss last time, but the first thing Nielsen did was to tug Cory toward and kiss him. Nielsen’s mouth tasted like spearmint from cheap mouthwash. The aftertaste stung a little.

Between the time he’d spent with Gordon, both the night before and that morning, and the two clients he’d seen earlier in the evening, Cory thought he should be tired of sex by now. His reaction wasn’t due to any attraction to Nielsen, either. The professor wasn’t bad-looking, but several days’ growth of beard and dorky glasses that slid down his nose made him look disreputable and mildly scruffy . His demeanor was a little off and he liked to mess with people. His refusal to wait until Cory came to get him proved that.

Nielsen began removing Cory’s clothes after deepening the kiss, and Cory couldn’t help but wonder what he was up to. It had been more than a year since they had fucked before Nielsen administered the drug. Was this some new humiliation? Or was Nielsen so horny that he couldn’t wait?

Cory hoped that Nielsen wasn’t doing this because he was jealous. Previously, Nielsen had only expressed an interest in Cory as an experimental subject. After what Jimmy had told Cory about what Nielsen had said about Gordon, Cory had been careful and made sure to eliminate all other scents this time. Surely Nielsen had no other way of knowing that Gordon had been in his room recently. Or did he?

“Want you,” Nielsen whispered in his ear just before he began nibbling on it. Then he bit down hard, and Cory winced. That was going to leave a mark.

Nielsen raked his fingernails across Cory’s back and dug his fingers into Cory’s hips hard enough to make the joints throb. Nielsen’s nails were jagged, making Cory curious as to whether he bit them. Cory tensed and wondered what brought this on, as Nielsen hadn’t been rough like this before. Cory didn’t object – some clients were turned on by it, and he was okay with that as long as they didn’t cause an injury or inflict pain that required more than a couple of ibuprofen and some rest to resolve – as long as he knew about it up front so he could charge more for it.

Irritated that Nielsen didn’t observe this elementary courtesy, Cory tried to squirm out from underneath Nielsen when the man pushed him down face first on the bed so he could ask the prick face-to-face what the fuck he was doing. Instead, Nielsen straddled Cory and yanked on his hair hard enough to lift his chin off the bed.

“Shall I fuck you from behind?” Nielsen asked mockingly.

“I don’t care how you do it,” Cory said between clenched teeth. “Stop manhandling me.” Nielsen let up enough to allow Cory to push himself up on his elbows and glare over his shoulder. “What’s gotten into you, anyway?”

Nielsen lifted Cory’s chin with his index finger. “I’m not allowed to touch you first?” he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You don’t usually fuck me first.”

“Mmm,” Nielsen said as he pushed Cory onto his back. Cory let him do it this time. “I just felt like it tonight.” Smirking at Cory’s surprise, he added, “Don’t worry, you’ll get your fix.”

Cory frowned. He hated having his needs compared to a drug addict’s.

Nielsen climbed on top of him, pinning Cory’s arms above his head with one hand and spreading his legs with the other. He smiled when Cory realized that he was going to enter him dry, though given how Cory had been occupied earlier that evening, more lubrication might have been unnecessary.

Cory set his jaw, determined not to cry out or flinch. He grimaced when Nielsen lined himself up and shoved in, but that was all. There was an initial burn, but once Nielsen was past that first ring of muscle, it didn’t hurt, really.

Nielsen hit Cory’s prostate relentlessly until only one more thrust was required to send Cory over the edge. Then he stopped. Cory groaned with frustration. Nielsen repeated this several times before Cory finally blurted out, “Fucking finish already!”

Nielsen looked down at him and smirked. “Impatient, aren’t we?” Cory felt Nielsen’s hot breath blow across his face before Nielsen scraped his teeth along Cory’s lower lip and licked until Cory’s lips parted. Nielsen gave him a sloppy kiss.

Once Cory was close to orgasm again, Nielsen wrapped his hand around Cory’s now-swollen cock. But instead of bringing Cory off, Nielsen cut off his progress. Cory winced as semen dribbled out without an accompanying orgasm. The continued pressure of Nielsen’s grip soon became painful. What a sadistic bastard.

He felt a flood of warmth as Nielsen’s cock pulsed inside him. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that Nielsen got himself off but forgot Cory. Nielsen remained unmoving until he pulled out, loosened his grip, and sat up.

Cory heaved a sigh of relief and lay there, not moving. He was so tired...

He jerked awake when a damp washcloth hit him in the chest. He wiped his abdomen and thighs with it.

The bed sagged as Nielsen sat down next to him. “Sit up,” he told him.

When he did, Cory saw that Nielsen was holding a glass of water and a capsule. He swallowed obediently and handed the empty glass back.

Nielsen moved toward the door. “Leaving now?” Cory asked.

Nielsen shrugged. “I already had my fun,” he said. “Now you get your payoff. Sweet dreams. You look like you could use the sleep.”

Did he really look that tired? Connie had said something about that, too. For reasons he didn’t understand, Cory said, “Don’t leave yet.”

Nielsen looked at him oddly. “I wonder if this is a new side effect?” he mused. “I’ll stay in case it is. Wouldn’t want my number one test subject out of commission.” He sat back down.

Cory shivered. Nielsen lifted the covers, but Cory asked him to bring a blanket instead. Nielsen wrapped it around him with more care than Cory would have expected.

Nielsen checked his Blackberry as Cory slipped into a dreamless doze. He debated how much longer to stay and decided that an hour would be more than sufficient. Then he went ahead and responded to an e-mail from his backer, Lady Koushu.

An hour and many e-mails and internet searches later, he carded his fingers through Cory’s hair, noting that it was almost the same color as Cory’s father’s. He leaned over and kissed Cory on the forehead before leaving. He stopped at the front desk on his way out to make an appointment for the following Saturday.

* * *

Cory felt like shit the next morning. He thought about letting Nielsen know, but decided it could wait. Besides, he wasn’t sure how much was due to the drug and how much was due to the rough sex. At least the drug had done its job of keeping him from remembering what he’d rather forget.

Despite everything, he didn’t want to stay in bed the rest of the day, so he pulled the blanket to the side and pushed up off the bed. He started his bathwater before taking a piss, tossing bath salts into the water.

He lowered himself into the tub once he was finished with the toilet. Tub full, he turned off the water and leaned back, letting the warmth caress his body and relax his muscles.

After soaking in the tub for close to fifteen minutes, he dragged himself out, dried off, and got dressed after rubbing some Tiger Balm over his sore muscles and bruises. He didn’t want to move, but all he’d done the day before was fuck and be fucked, and he was beginning to feel a bit bored. Maybe better quality coffee than was available downstairs would make him feel more human.

It was after eleven o’clock by the time he eased himself into a chair at a table for two outside the café. The sound of an organ wafting from the open windows of a nearby church told him that mass had begun already.

He recognized the server – a tall blonde with straight hair pulled back in a ponytail who looked young enough to be a college student waitressing to earn extra money. When she asked what he wanted, he said, “An espresso and a beignet.”

She smiled and said, “You weren’t here yesterday.”

He shielded his eyes to see her better. “You noticed?”

She nodded. “Yes. So did most of the other girls.”

After giving her a brief, tight smile, he thought about what he could do to blend in better. Attention from people who weren’t clients made him uncomfortable and attention from women surprised him, maybe because he only had male clients anymore. He’d taken on female clients as well when he started, but after a while they had stopped asking for him. He wasn’t rough or abusive, or rude, even, except to those who truly deserved it, but he couldn’t manufacture feelings he didn’t have or listen to them go on about their trite, depressing lives. His purpose was to provide an outlet, not therapy. No amount of Connie and Jimmy telling him that some clients paid prostitutes to listen to them convinced him otherwise.

The arrival of his beignet and espresso interrupted his thoughts. “Enjoy,” the server said, smiling again. It made her face light up, though Cory assumed she did it mostly to earn bigger tips. Or maybe she was trying to hit on him. He lifted his cup and nodded after sipping from it; she took that as a signal that everything was fine and left.

He pondered for a moment what it would be like to have a life like he imagined she had. She probably didn’t go to the kinds of places he did or get laid nearly as much, but maybe an everyday life like hers would be more satisfying in the long run.

While he left her a tip, he wondered what the people at the café thought of him. From what she’d said, a few of the female servers had noticed him, maybe even had crushes on him. Did they think he was a student, or did they know what he was? He scoffed. They couldn’t possibly know.

Then he wondered why he cared.

* * *

The following Sunday, Cory arrived at the café early to fortify himself with a cup of coffee. He also wanted to arrive first so Gordon wouldn’t have to wait someplace unfamiliar. The same server who’d waited on him the week before took his order.   
She smiled at him when she brought him his coffee. He realized that he was nervous when he noticed that he had to consciously exert control over his muscles to prevent his arms from trembling. This was stupid. He was no blushing teenager.

Cory was thankful that Dr. Nielsen hadn’t fucked him first last night as he had the previous week. Nor had he said anything about Gordon. Maybe it had all blown over; maybe his comments about Gordon were just another example of his mind games. He’d told Nielsen about the side effects he’d experienced last time and Nielsen had assured him he had returned to the prior dosage before handing him a capsule and a glass of water as usual. Cory had hesitated before taking it, but sank into his usual deep, dreamless sleep afterward.

He would feel well-rested were it not for being a little sore. He stretched gingerly. Sometimes he remembered having sex while under the drug’s influence. It was trippy, almost like he wasn’t really there, or was experiencing everything through a hazy filter.

Cory pushed that thought aside and thought about his upcoming date. It was the first one he’d had in a while; it might even be his first date ever, depending on what counted as a date. He’d hung around the musical and arty group at school, even though he wasn’t musical and had only taken a few art classes, and had gone places with them at times, but hadn’t gone on individual dates except for when he and his friend Tina had hung out at the mall bookstore.

But that was more a matter of neighbors who had interests in common hanging out, not dates; they each paid for their own meals and books. They weren’t in a relationship, no matter what the people around them thought. Whenever anyone brought it up, Cory glared at them and Tina laughed and said, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He had wished she would stop encouraging people like that even though he knew she only did it to stir things up.

He started when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up; it was Gordon. “What’s with creeping up on me?” he asked, more harshly than he intended.

“I said your name and ya didn’t respond. So I thought I’d get your attention some other way. Sorry if I startled you.”

Cory shrugged. “It’s okay. I was a little preoccupied, that’s all.”

“With what?” Gordon asked as he sat down.

He sounded genuinely curious. But Cory didn’t want to share what he’d been thinking with Gordon. “Uh, just thinking about what I need to do later,” he lied.

“What do you usually do on Sundays?” Gordon asked.

“Take it easy. Clean, do laundry, watch TV or read. You know. The usual.”

Gordon smiled. “I’m glad I don’t have much cleanin’ or pickin’ up to do. Just my laundry, mostly. So you usually have Sundays off?”

“Yeah. For some reason, clients don’t book appointments on Sunday. Especially the locals. The beginning of the week is usually light, too.”

“Ya think they’re all at church? ‘Cos that’d be kinda funny.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. Going to church is pretty popular around here.” He gestured; there were a few churches within sight of the café, though services were over at most of them by now.

“Yeah, back home as well. But church here is different from church back home.”

“How so?”

“Well, there’s more Catholics and more Catholic churches here, for one thing.”

Cory nodded. “So what do you normally do on Sundays?”

“Sleep in. I’m up late most Saturdays.”

Cory frowned as Gordon continued. “There’s a group that gets together and plays video or table top games. Or Hakkai and JoJo play poker. In that case, mostly I just watch ‘cos they’re good enough that I don’t usually win.”

Cory felt relieved after hearing that. He'd thought at first that Gordon was going to say he went out drinking on Saturday nights. Gordon was under the legal drinking age, but a lot of college students didn’t let that stop them. He told himself that the idea of Gordon bar-hopping disturbed him because of the trouble a naïve college student with a low tolerance for alcohol could get into. Nothing more.

During this lull, their server came over to the table. When Cory had arrived, he had let her know that a friend of his would be joining him later; she must have assumed – correctly – that Gordon was the person he meant. “Welcome to Café Diane. Do you want a menu?” she said to Gordon, pointing at menu next to Cory’s elbow. “Or do you know what you want?”

Gordon looked at Cory. “What do ya suggest?”

Cory shrugged. “Depends on what you like. You want breakfast or lunch? They have beignets and pastries and all the usual breakfast stuff, from waffles and pancakes to eggs Benedict. But you should probably take a look at the menu if you want lunch.”

Gordon patted his stomach. “Breakfast would be great,” he said enthusiastically. “What are you gettin’?”

“I’ll have two poached eggs over grits, grapefruit juice, and more coffee,” Cory told the server, handing the menu to Gordon.

“Do ya mind if I order more than one thing?” he asked Cory.

Cory shrugged. “No, go right ahead,” he said. The portions were generous, though maybe not as generous as a greasy spoon diner’s would be; he wondered what Gordon wanted badly enough to order twice.

“Okay, I’d like three scrambled eggs with sausage and Belgian waffles with strawberries and whipped cream, please. And a large orange juice and coffee.”

“What kind of toast?” the server asked, writing frantically.

“White.”

She flipped her order pad over. “All right, gentlemen,” she said, taking the menu out of Gordon’s hands. “I’ll be right back.”

Cory searched for an innocuous topic to talk about. Something that demonstrated his interest in Gordon and allowed Gordon to talk about himself. All he knew so far was how it felt to fuck, and be fucked by, Gordon. He settled on school; it met all his criteria. “So what are you majoring in?” he asked.

“I’m not majorin’ in anythin’ yet. Ya don’t declare a major until your sophomore year. But I’m leanin’ toward computer science.”

That led to a lengthy discussion of the relative merits of Apple versus Microsoft products. Some of the terms that Gordon used went over Cory’s head, but Gordon’s explanations were easy to follow once Cory asked. The coffee and juice they’d ordered arrived in the middle of their discussion and were mostly ignored until they were done with it.

Cory then asked, “What about your friends?”

“They’re both juniors. Hakkai’s a business major.” Cory nodded; that made sense from what he knew about Hakkai and the family business. “JoJo’s majoring in social work.”

Cory’s eyebrows shot up. When his father had died, the absence of a will appointing a guardian in the event Kevin died before Cory turned eighteen had greatly complicated matters. As a result, he’d had to endure several visits from social workers before settling in at his aunt’s. He would forever be grateful to Connie for readily agreeing to take him in and standing up to the social workers and the agency they represented. She’d even threatened to sic her lawyers on the interfering busybodies.

“Social work?” he said quizzically.

“Yeah,” Gordon replied. “He was in the foster system as a teen. His brother knifed his mom when she tried to strangle him and then his brother ran away, leavin’ him by himself. I guess he was afraid of gettin’ in trouble.”

“His mother tried to kill him?” Cory considered himself fairly unflappable, but he found the idea of a mother trying to strangle her son unsettling. Then again, he’d been abandoned by his mother at birth; was there really much of a difference?

“Stepmother, actually, and his brother was her son, his half-brother. He went to live with the two of them after his parents died in a fire.”

“Where were his grandparents?”

“His father’s parents didn’t want him ‘cos his mom was an illegal who’d been his brother’s nanny. His father left his wife to live with her after he knocked her up. His mother’s parents live in Mexico.”

“That’s a tough break,” Cory said, trying to square languishing in foster care with the seemingly relaxed person he’d seen in the reception area at the beginning of Gordon’s first visit. “You and your friends are full of hard luck stories.”

“I can see why you’d say that about Hakkai and JoJo, but why me?”

“You grew up where they would have come after you with pitchforks if they knew your sexual orientation.”

“Oh, yeah. That.” Gordon looked down at the table. “I’m sorry, I forgot.” A mild flush spread across his cheeks.

The server brought their food. “Enjoy your meal,” she said. Her ponytail swayed as she walked away, but Cory and Gordon were too engrossed in their food to notice.

After a few minutes of determined chewing, Gordon asked, “So what about you? Where did you grow up?”

“Mostly in New Orleans. My dad was a professor of bioethics at the med school at Tulane. He studied there, too.”

“’Was’? So what does he do now?”

Cory felt a stab of something at this reminder that Gordon didn’t know anything about his family history. “Nothing,” he said flatly. “He’s dead.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean ta bring up such a touchy subject.”

Cory shrugged. “It would have come up at some point. Better for you to know now.”

“How long ago was it?”

“Six years ago. And before you ask, he was murdered, and I was there when it happened.”

“Man, that’s sick! Did they catch whoever did it?”

Cory hesitated. This was the part that hurt the most. “No. I wasn’t able to pick anyone out of the photos the police showed me. What with being shot and all, I didn’t notice much of what happened.”

“You were shot?” He could hear the incredulity in Gordon’s voice.

“It was a flesh wound. It didn’t take long to heal.”

“I’m glad you’re okay! What about your mom?”

Cory frowned and shook his head. “She left when I was young. My dad raised me by himself.”

“That sucks. So how are ya related to the owner of, um, the place where you work?”

“She’s my mother’s sister.”

“That place is owned by a woman?”

“Shh,” Cory said, holding a finger up next to his lips before picking up his coffee cup.

“Sorry, but I’m surprised!”

Cory wasn’t, but he’d known about Connie’s less-than-legal business for a long time even though he hadn’t known its exact nature until after he’d moved in with her. “There are more women running businesses in the industry than you might expect,” he said in an undertone. “Can we not talk about this now?”

“Oh.” Cory could see the realization dawn as Gordon looked around him. “ _Oh_.”

“’Oh’ what?” Cory said, irritated.

“People here don’t know what ya do, do they?” Gordon asked sagely.

Cory frowned and paused as the yolk from the piece of egg he had speared on his fork dribbled on his grits. “No, and I want to keep it that way.” He didn’t add that he liked having someplace to go where he could pretend to be just like everyone else. People were idiots, so why would he want to pretend to be one of them? But that didn’t lessen the appeal.

They resumed eating. Cory finished soon afterward, leaving half his grits, dotted with yellow drops of yolk, on his plate and downing his grapefruit juice in a few gulps. For his part, Gordon tucked into his food with enthusiasm, finishing off the eggs, sausage and toast before moving on to the waffles covered with fresh strawberries and whipped cream.

Cory boggled at the way Gordon ate like he was starving. He had to have a fast metabolism to be able to maintain that trim physique if he made a habit of eating like that. Wrestling probably helped, too. Come to think of it, he probably worked out as well.

Just as Cory began visualizing a glossy, sweaty Gordon straining his muscles using weight machines, Gordon swiped his finger across the whipped cream and offered it to Cory, saying, “Want some?”

Cory looked around stealthily, unsure if this action was the product of innocence or guile. No one was looking their way, so he leaned forward and parted his lips. He opened his mouth wider and let his tongue dart out when Gordon’s fingertip made contact. He lapped at Gordon’s finger until all the whipped cream was gone, which was the signal for Gordon to remove his finger.

The luscious, sweet hint of strawberry flavored the whipped cream. Cory scolded himself for reacting to the innuendo inherent in the gesture, but that did little to dampen the erotic charge licking white stuff off of Gordon’s finger gave him.

“Good, isn’t it?” Gordon asked with satisfaction before stuffing another bite of waffle in his mouth. He chewed with great enthusiasm, gulping orange juice and sipping coffee in between mouthfuls.

Cory recited the twelve times table in his head. When he finished, he asked, “What about Vacherie?”

“Huh?” Gordon mumbled. Cory fixated on Gordon’s tongue darting out to lick whipped cream off his face. He then dabbed his mouth with his napkin. “Somethin’ wrong?” Gordon asked.

“No.” Cory decided he had to be more discreet about his gaze. He sipped his coffee and reiterated, “So how did you wind up in Vacherie?”

Having polished off the waffles, Gordon settled back in his chair and said, “My parents sent me to Vacherie for the summer ta get me outta their hair. My aunt loves children and loves ta cook, but she was widowed early on and never had kids of her own. This way, she had me all to herself ‘cept for the week my whole family would come and stay with her.”

“That’s right, you have a, what – brother?”

“An older brother. And a younger sister.”

Cory raised an eyebrow. “So why did they send you there for the summer and not one of the others?”

Gordon shrugged. “I was a handful. It was easier on ‘em, I guess. My mother worked and I got a lot more attention than I’d get back at home.” He brought the coffee cup to his lips, then said, “So what about you?”

“My father’s parents lived there and I spent summers with them like you did with your aunt. My dad didn’t have to teach over the summer, but he did research, so he’d arrive in Vacherie on Friday and stay until Monday. He’d stay around all week when he was on vacation.”

“How come I never saw ya after the summer when ya rescued me?”

“My grandfather died and my grandmother went into a nursing home. We went there on the weekends the following summer to clean the place out and get it fixed up, but my father had it on the market when he died.”

“So what happened to it?”

“My aunt sold the place and the money went toward my grandmother’s nursing home stay.”

“If you don’t mind tellin’ me,” Gordon said, his voice trailing off, “how old were ya then?”

“I was sixteen when my father was murdered. I went to live with Connie right after I got out of the hospital. I didn’t want to stay in the house where he’d died.” He paused. “Connie eventually sold that house too after the police were done with it. But it took a long time to sell.”

“Were ya afraid whoever killed him would come after ya?”

Cory looked thoughtful. “No, not really. The police concluded I’d been shot because I tried to shield him. Not that it did any good.” He mouth twisted as he lifted the cup to his mouth and drained the dregs of his coffee.

Gordon grabbed Cory’s hand and held it under the table.

Cory tensed instinctively. Most men wanted more from him than that, so much more. But as Gordon continued to hold his hand, he relaxed and moved their clasped hands so they rested on his thigh.

“Ya finished?” Gordon asked. When Cory nodded, he said, “Can we walk around for a little bit? I can go partway back with you, then hop on the streetcar.”

“Let me get the waitress’ attention so I can pay the check.” Cory turned toward the servers’ station and beckoned with his free hand. When the server approached, he said, “Check, please.”

She ripped the check off of her order pad and dropped it on the table. “I’ll take that when you’re ready.”

Cory slipped his hand out of Gordon’s and gave her his debit card.

By the time she returned, he’d already left the tip. She smiled as she reached for it. “Thank you,” she said as they got up to leave. “Have a great day, y’all.”

Gordon waved as they left. Cory shook his head. “Are you always this friendly?” he asked.

“Yeah, unless it’s someone I see all the time and they don’t bother ta respond. Then I stop ‘cos it’s no fun anymore.”

They walked a block in silence. After they crossed the side street, Gordon took Cory’s hand again.

It was a little awkward; the humidity was on the rise, the slight breeze that had been blowing while they were at the café dissipating. Gordon’s hand felt clammy now. Cory slipped his hand out from within Gordon’s and held Gordon’s hand in his instead.

Gordon smiled and accepted the change without comment.

“So what were you doing in that cave anyway?” Cory asked.

“Huh?” Gordon said, whipping his head in Cory’s direction. He had been checking out the gardens that were hidden behind wrought iron gates.

“The cave. Back in Vacherie. The one I dragged you out of?”

“Oh, yeah. Some of the kids in the neighborhood showed me that cave when we were playin’ hide and seek, and I went back to take a look around. I didn’t know it was supposed ta rain that day, an’ even if I had, I’d a never thought the cave would flood.”

“Everyone in town knows that the caves flood when the river gets high enough. Your friends didn’t warn you?”

Gordon shrugged. “We jus’ stuck our heads in. I don’t think they expected me to go back on my own. I hadn’t been as far as that from my aunt’s house before.”

Cory squinted. He let go of Gordon’s hand and slid his sunglasses out of his shirt pocket and onto his nose. “So who were these geniuses anyway?”

“Uh, let’s see. There was Tim … His last name was La-somethin’. “

“Lachance?”

“Sounds right. An’ Penny. Uh, I don’t remember her last name.”

Cory thought. “Light-skinned African-American girl? Wore her hair in braids?”

“Yeah, that was her.”

“Her last name’s Drew.”

“Okay. Doesn’t ring any bells, but I’ll take yer word for it. Then there was a brother and sister, Troy and Sandra Donoghue.”

“I knew the Donoghues’ older sister and Tim’s older brother. It’s a small town.”

“So why’d ya want to know who they were?”

Cory leaned against a gate and tapped a cigarette out before lighting it and walking onward. “Because I was considering the possibility that they showed you the cave to tempt you to endanger yourself like you did. Not everyone is nice. Even in Vacherie, some people are downright mean.”

“I didn’t know anyone like that,” Gordon said stubbornly. “’Sides, my aunt Bessie was friends with their parents. I’m sure she’d a warned me if their kids weren’t nice.” Cory could feel the wave of indignation rolling off him. “So were they the kind of kids who’d do somethin’ like that?”

Cory shook his head. “Probably not. Look, just forget it.”

Gordon halted and stared at Cory, who turned and looked at him. “Ya can’t just insult them like that!” Gordon said. “I played an’ hung out with those kids long after ya left town.”

“Look, I was there longer than you were,” Cory said heatedly. “I know the place. It’s not all rainbows and puppies, believe me.”

“Why? Were people mean ta ya?”

Cory shrugged and started walking again. “Not usually,” he admitted. At Gordon’s triumphant look, he added, “Not because they didn’t want to be, but because they were afraid of me. Of getting on my grandparents’ bad side. Or my father’s. He was a wonderful person, but people knew not to cross him.”

“Why’s that?”

“He was a sixth-degree black belt.”

“Huh. I didn’t know doctors had time for that.”

“He never practiced as a doctor. He started out as a researcher. He specialized in bioethics later on because of the issues he’d run into as a researcher.”

“What kinda research did he do?”

“Pharmaceutical research. He ran drug trials for awhile.”

They walked silently next to each other without speaking for another block before Cory stopped, throwing the remains of his cigarette on the sidewalk and grinding it out. “I know the way. You might as well leave now. I don’t need an escort.”

Gordon looked troubled. “Ya want ta say goodbye here?” he said, looking around dubiously. The sidewalk wasn’t crowded, but it was clear that he had qualms about saying goodbye where they were.

“Oh, all right,” Cory said, tugging on Gordon’s hand. They walked a few steps further before he dragged Gordon hard to the left down a narrow pathway between two buildings. “This private enough for you?”

“Sure,” Gordon said breathlessly as Cory pushed him back against the wall, tipped his chin up, and dipped down to kiss him.

Cory’s hands slid behind Gordon’s back. All the tentativeness and holding back now disappeared in a swirl of want and need. Cory thrust his knee in between Gordon’s legs and rubbed Gordon’s groin with it.

Gordon was slowly falling apart, his eyes sliding shut, his breath shortening. When Cory surged forward, he thrust back, his hips rolling helplessly. “Keep goin’ and I’ll come right here,” he panted.

Cory had Gordon’s belt buckle in his hands when Gordon stopped him. “No,” Gordon said. Cory looked up, surprised.

Gordon looked disheveled and delectable, but he shook his head and batted Cory’s hands away. “No,” he said more firmly. “Not here, not now. Not like this. ‘Sides, you said you wanted to get to know me better first.”

“I don’t care what I said,” Cory growled.

“You were right. Let’s wait. Unless you’re ready to bring me back to your room now?” He quirked an eyebrow.

Cory breathed out helplessly. He wanted Gordon, but he wasn’t quite ready to bring him back to his room as a lover instead of a client. “Not yet,” he whispered.

“Okay,” Gordon said, a wistful smile on his face. He gave Cory a quick kiss on the lips, no tongue. “When you’re ready, let’s get out of here.”

Cory rolled his eyes at this reference to his state of arousal. He tried to think of something to talk about that would keep his mind off of molesting Gordon further.

“So do you always eat as much as that?” he asked before realizing there were two ways to take that, one of which did nothing to avoid the thoughts he was trying to keep himself from returning to.

Gordon grinned, clearly attuned to the double meaning but not mentioning it. “Most of the time, yeah. JoJo calls me the bottomless pit. And Miz Langlois – she manages the fraternity house – says she’s never seen anyone else get more than his money’s worth out of the food there like I do. But we usually make our own breakfast out of what’s in the cupboard, so I usually have cereal or somethin’ like that. This was a nice treat. Thank you.” He stood on tiptoes and gave Cory a peck on the cheek.

They walked slowly back to the entrance. Cory squeezed Gordon’s hand, then let go. “I’ll stay here until the trolley shows up,” he said.

Gordon looked at him funny, but all he said was, “Okay.” Cory lit another cigarette and Gordon shoved his hands in his pockets, searching for change, until the streetcar showed up. “Thank you for everything,” Gordon said.

Cory realized with a start that he hadn’t made any arrangements to see Gordon again. “I’ll call you,” he yelled. Gordon waved before climbing into the streetcar.

Cory couldn’t tell if Gordon heard him.

 

Next chapter: Will Cory and Gordon get back together? What will happen if they do?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when Cory (Sanzo) and Gordon (Goku) fail to make follow up plans after their first date?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters who appear or are mentioned in this chapter:
> 
> Gordon Smalls = Son Goku  
> Cory Sanzo = Genjyo Sanzo (think Kouryuu as the source for the name)  
> Yvonne = Yaone  
> Gustav = the cook (no Saiyiuki equivalent)  
> Jimmy = Jiroushin  
> Connie (Cory’s aunt) = Kanzeon Bosatsu

Gordon walked slowly up the stairs to his room. He was just as glad not to run into his friends on the way. What had just happened confused him enough that he didn’t want to discuss it with them, but he was too honest to put them off with a white lie if he ran into them. He still thought he had done the right thing by stopping what would have been an enjoyable, though messy and semi-public, sexual encounter with Cory, but he didn’t feel absolutely certain of that. Rejecting someone’s advances wasn’t the kind of thing someone did at the beginning of a relationship if they wanted to see it through. Besides, Cory likely wasn’t used to being rejected and might have been offended.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to have sex with Cory. He wanted him, wanted him as badly as he needed oxygen. He hoped Cory wanted him that much too, but he also wanted Cory to want him for who he was, not just as an object of lust.

And what did Cory mean when he said that he’d call Gordon? Cory had already given him his cell phone number. Did he mean Gordon should hold off and wait until Cory called him first? He never imagined that the etiquette of who calls who would ever be relevant to him. He thought this kind of thing only came up in relationships with women.

Gordon therefore resisted the temptation to call Cory anyway. He only had enough clean underwear for one more day, so laundry should be his first priority; he’d learned the hard way that recycling underwear resulted in unbecoming and uncomfortable chafing. He also had an essay to write that he’d been putting off because he had no clue what to write about the Odyssey that hadn’t already been written many times, and better, by others.

But instead of doing the sensible thing and taking his dirty clothes to the laundry room, he toed off his sneakers and lay down on the bed. He had just enough self-control to stop himself from calling Cory, but he couldn’t stop thinking about what had almost happened between them. Had Cory planned to give him a hand job and expected Gordon to reciprocate? Or was he going to suck Gordon off while he was shoved against the wall where anyone walking by could see and overhear them?

He started palming his groin without intending to do so, as if his hand had a mind of its own. When he noticed, he looked at his hand, befuddled at it acting without any conscious input from him. After his mind caught up to his hand, he gladly unzipped his pants and pulled his half-erect cock out of the opening in his boxers. Once he had his dick in hand, it dawned on him that this would be a lot more comfortable if he used lubricant. He lunged toward his nightstand drawer to get it. Maybe this would get him to remember not to leave it until the last minute next time.

Hissing at the chilliness of the lube –warming it up beforehand was another reason to retrieve the lube earlier in the process – he slicked his palm and fingers and wrapped them around his now-throbbing hard-on. The long, smooth strokes he gave himself felt really, really good.

He sped up and applied more pressure. Wanting more – more frequent touches over more of his dick, maybe even fingering his ass – he fumbled one-handed until he managed to drag both his pants and underwear down below his hips. He then applied lube to that hand and fondled his balls, working his way backwards until he was fingering his hole. The hand that had gone back to his dick jerked and tugged while his hips bucked upward.

Letting go of his cock for the moment so he could pay more attention to the rest of what he was doing, he withdrew his finger partway and pushed it back in slowly, testing to see how far it would go. That didn’t feel quite right, so he crooked his finger and probed gently.

When he hit the right spot, his hips stuttered and he let out a breathy “fuck” without meaning to. He picked up the throw pillow that his mother had made for him and bit down on it to muffle the sounds he couldn’t help making.

He removed his finger and started masturbating again. The fingering had kept his erection stiff; all he had to do now was to go at it hard and fast enough to get himself off. He slid his hand along his length, twisted his wrist, and tugged. Recalling what his cock looked like disappearing into Cory’s mouth, how it felt with Cory’s hands wrapped around it and when he was inside Cory’s body was enough to bring him to orgasm. Semen spurting, he bit down hard on the pillow – if he hadn’t been effectively gagged, he’d have been shouting Cory’s name – while his heart thudded and his breath turned into heavy pants.

After his heart rate and breathing went back to normal, and he put the pillow back where it came from, he noticed that his shirt and bedspread were soiled. He sighed at the thought that they now needed to be added to the pile of dirty laundry.

The phone rang before he could do anything more about his laundry.

* * *

Cory punched in Gordon’s number and hoped he’d left enough time for Gordon to make it back to his place. He’d felt stupid when he realized they hadn’t made any plans to meet again. Apparently, his libido had reduced his brains to mush.

This forgetfulness was not only annoying, but it might also lead Gordon to assume that Cory wasn’t interested in him, or was only interested in having sex with him. That wasn’t at all what Cory intended to convey. Things were different with Gordon than they had been with anyone else he’d met in a long time. Cory didn’t want to inadvertently chase him away because of his inattentiveness.

The phone started ringing, and Cory drummed his fingers while he waited for Gordon to pick up. It rang once… twice… three times…

Just when he had resigned himself to leaving a message, the phone clicked and Gordon picked up. Cory was relieved that he didn’t have to decide on a message to leave after the beep.

“Hi,” he said. “It’s Cory.” He waited a moment; when Gordon didn’t answer, he asked, “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

Gordon stifled a snort. “No, you didn’t.”

“Well, uh …” Cory wished he didn’t sound (or feel) like a tongue-tied teenager. “We neglected to make plans to meet again.” His pride wouldn’t let him admit that he was to blame for that.

Gordon smiled. “I’m glad you called! I wasn’t sure where we’d left things.” He wasn’t about to admit that he was worried that Cory had dumped him before their relationship had a chance to get off the ground. Despite Cory’s prickly personality, he was a good enough catch to have his pick of partners. He didn’t have to settle for Gordon.

“What about going to see a movie?”

“Cool! When’s a good time?”

“Next Sunday?”

“That works for me. What time?”

“I’ll call you Friday. We can figure everything out then. When do you get out of your last class?”

“I’ll be done with classes by three. I should be back here by, oh, three-thirty.”

“I’ll call you then.” Cory almost hung up first, but remembered to add, “Good-bye, Gordon.”

“’Bye, Cory. Thanks for lunch.”

* * *

When Cory had called Gordon on Friday, he’d told him, “You can pick the movie on two conditions: no chick flicks and no movies in 3-D. They give me migraines.”

“Aw, what makes you think I’d wanna see a chick flick?” Gordon asked indignantly.

Cory had said it mostly to get Gordon’s goat, but the proviso wasn’t entirely a joke. “Just making sure,” Cory said. “Romantic comedies are ridiculously unrealistic, and tragedies make me want to kill the characters first and then myself for having wasted my time on them.” This left Gordon wondering how Cory knew this if he hated them so much.

When they got to the ticket booth, Gordon tried to pay for both of them. “Last time was your treat,” he said. “This time is mine.”

“No,” Cory said. “I’ll pay for myself. I work and you don’t.”

As it turned out, tickets for shows that started before six were cheap, but like everywhere else, concession prices sucked, so they each paid to see the movie and Cory paid for the snacks. Gordon tried to control himself after seeing the concession prices, but they wound up loaded down with two large sodas, a jumbo tub of popcorn, a box of Sno-Caps, and two hot dogs anyway. Cory ate maybe a third of the popcorn and a hot dog, and Gordon ate the rest. Cory marveled that Gordon managed to maintain his sleek physique given the amount he ate every time he saw him.

The movie, the name of which was unremarkable enough that they forgot it as soon as they left the theater, featured spies, non-stop action, souped-up cars, and the usual female-sidekick-as-romantic-interest. Although the romantic subplot bored Cory to tears, at least the actress was pretty and her character wasn’t incompetent. Lack of stupidity was always a plus. The rest of the movie was noisy and confusing, with music that was too loud and dialog that was too soft to be heard easily, but there were lots of explosions and spectacular special effects.

* * *

“Ya wanna go somewhere else?” Gordon asked hopefully afterward. Movies were traditional date fodder, but all that seeing one amounted to was paying to see the same thing at the same time. It wasn’t a way to get to know someone better.

“Like where?”

Gordon didn’t want to suggest going straight back to Cory’s; it seemed a bit forward, maybe even outright rude, to invite himself over, and he knew that they were likely to get to know each other better only carnally if they went there. But he didn’t feel comfortable inviting Cory back to where he lived either; his room was cramped and the common rooms weren’t private enough for a conversation. “Well, we could go back to that café you took me to.”

“We’d have to take the streetcar,” Cory pointed out. “And you’d have to come back this way afterward.” While the theater wasn’t within easy walking distance of the fraternity, it was closer to it and the universities than to where Cory lived.

The drizzle that had fallen most of the day threatened to turn into full-fledged rain. “There’s a coffee shop nearby that’s pretty good,” Gordon said. “Wanna go there before we get drenched?”

Cory nodded; the weather seemed motivation enough not to prolong the discussion. They hustled to get there before the rain could start falling in earnest.

The coffee shop was one of those scruffy, funky collegiate hangouts where none of the furniture or china matched, baskets were set out to collect donations for the cause of the moment, and the staff consisted mostly of college students who needed extra money. Not surprisingly, it served healthy but hearty food. Cory ordered an apricot pecan square to go with his coffee, and it was excellent – moist and filling, not heavy and dried out like so much organic hippie food.

They sat in the front corner of the shop at a wooden table that had originally been a spool for heavy-duty electrical cable. While they were waiting for their food, Gordon asked, “So what did ya think of the movie? Was it okay?”

“It was fine,” Cory replied, adding, “The special effects were impressive.” He didn’t see any point in sharing his criticisms of the movie; it was obvious that Gordon wanted Cory to like the movie he’d chosen.

“I’m glad ya liked it,” Gordon said, smiling.

Cory nodded and changed the subject. “So how’s wrestling coming?”

Gordon’s face clouded over. “I’m so busy with schoolwork that I haven’t made it to all the practices, so I asked the coach to take me off the team before he did it himself. I’m impressed that you remembered, though.”

Then their orders came, and they alternated between sipping their beverages, eating the desserts, and talking about videogames. Every so often, Gordon would lean forward and accidentally make contact with Cory – foot with foot, or knee with knee -- and blush.

Right after the third time this happened, a girl with short curly brown hair who’d just walked in stopped short and yelled, “Gordy!” Gordon looked around, bemused.

She walked toward them. Gordon said, “Hi, Lisa. My name’s Gordon, not Gordy.”

She didn’t respond, turning her attention to Cory instead. “Hello, who are you?” she asked, smiling.

Cory looked at Gordon, who said, “This is Cory. Cory, this is Lisa. We’re in the same lit class.”

Cory shook the hand she offered him and said, “Hi.”

Lisa wrinkled her nose and said, “I haven’t seen you around before. Are you a student?”

Cory shrugged. “No, I’m not. Gordon and I met at work.”

Gordon looked a little worried. Cory nodded toward him and said, “I work in my aunt’s shop and Gordon’s a customer. Not everyone around here’s a student, you know.”

“Most people are. Which shop is it?”

Uncertain whether she was just making small talk or really wanted to know. Cory deflected here question with a joke. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” he said, smiling.

Gordon sputtered and spat out some of his coffee. Lisa patted his shoulder, which only seemed to unnerve him more.

To Cory’s relief, Lisa turned to Gordon and asked, “Did you finish reading the _Aeneid_ yet? It was totally boring!”

“No, not yet,” Gordon admitted.

She looked like she was about to sit down with them, so Cory said, “Sorry to rush off, but I have to get back to the store soon to help close up.”

“Oh,” she said as her face fell and she walked away. Gordon exhaled. “Thanks. She’s well-meaning, but a little nosy. Why didn’t you tell her that you’re a student?”

Cory picked at the remains of his apricot pecan square. “She might bug you to introduce her to me. She might even check with the registrar’s office and find out I was lying. It’s always better to lie as little as possible and keep your lies simple.”

“Thanks for not explaining how we really met. Most of the guys at the fraternity know I dig guys, not girls, but it’s not general knowledge.”

Cory stood up. “We might as well get out of here, otherwise it’s going to be obvious that I said that just to get rid of her.”

Gordon stood up as well, eyeing his unfinished coffee sadly. They had only been there long enough to finish their snacks. “I guess you’re right.”

“If you want to finish your coffee, pour it into a paper cup and bring it with you.”

* * *

As they left, Lisa was laughing and chattering with some acquaintances in another corner. Gordon didn’t go over and say goodbye, preferring not to draw attention to their departure.

“So what now?” Gordon said once they were outside, sipping his coffee. It was drizzling again instead of raining like it had while they were inside. “Dinner isn’t for a couple of hours, and I don’t feel like heading back yet.”

Cory hesitated. “Come back with me.”

Gordon looked at him quizzically. “Ya mean it?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” After that, Gordon saw no point in questioning him any further.

Gordon finished his coffee while they waited for the next streetcar to come along. Once the streetcar took off, Gordon’s heart thumped so loudly that he thought Cory surely must have noticed. What had happened between them before didn’t count anymore. Whatever happened now would.

Some of his nervousness must have communicated itself to Cory. He took Gordon’s hand and squeezed it briefly before letting go. He looked out the window and avoided looking at Gordon for most of the ride, though. Gordon wondered if Cory was nervous too, but he didn’t understand what Cory might have to be nervous about.

Cory unlocked the back entrance to the House and they walked up the rear staircase, which was more institutional-looking than the portion of the building that Gordon had seen before. They walked past a few people in the hallway, including the dark-haired woman Gordon had seen wearing a cheongsam on her way out of the House at the beginning of his first visit.

Cory unlocked his door and offered Gordon a beer. Gordon turned it down. Cory opened one for himself and took a couple of healthy swigs before putting it down and sitting next to Gordon on the sofa. The next thing Gordon knew, Cory was all over him.

Gordon slid downward and wound up stretched out beneath Cory, who kissed and caressed Gordon starting from the top of his head and proceeding to his neck, chest, and waist. Gordon suppressed a yelp when he felt Cory’s lips around his cock, even though he’d known where this was headed once Cory undid his pants.

Maybe it was because it had been awhile since he’d been on the receiving end, or maybe it was because it hadn’t been paid for, but each suck and swipe of Cory’s tongue had Gordon moaning in an embarrassingly wanton display. Cory smirked at him, each upward twitch of his mouth letting Gordon know that he knew exactly what this was doing to Gordon and enjoyed taking him apart.

In retaliation, Gordon began thrusting his hips. Not a lot – not enough to make Cory gag – but enough. Gordon whimpered when Cory pulled away, but instead of the warning he expected, Cory said, “Get your clothes off and I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”

Gordon made a beeline for the bedroom, shedding his clothes along the way. Cory headed for the bathroom and returned, damp washcloth in hand. Gordon was lying on Cory’s bed. Cory coaxed Gordon into rolling onto his stomach and swiped between his legs with the washcloth. Gordon jerked away. “No fair,” he said. “You’re still dressed.”

“Shh,” Cory said as he ditched the washcloth. He straddled Gordon, who felt Cory’s hands spreading his cheeks as his tongue left a wet trail between them. Despite knowing it was coming, he still gasped when Cory’s tongue flicked inside him, opening him up.

Cory pulled away without warning him first. Gordon heard him removing his clothes and tossing them to the floor. The bed dipped as a drawer slid open. A cap popped and Gordon felt the slick coolness of lube as Cory prepped him.

“I know you like to see my face when we do this, but I’d like to try it from behind this time.”

Gordon turned around. His uncertainty showed in his face. “Why?”

“It’s just – It’s a better angle. I can go faster and harder.” Cory paused to think about it. “It’ll be easier for you to do it to me than for me to explain it.”

“But I’m ready already!”

“Too bad. Turn over again.” Gordon did, staring up at him. Cory used his hand to make sure he was fully hard, then passed Gordon the lube.

Gordon shook his head, bemused, but got off the bed anyway so Cory could lie down on it. “I don’t think I’m ready to do that rimming stuff,” he warned Cory.

“That’s okay.” The pillow Cory’s chin rested on muffled his response.

Gordon coated his fingers and concentrated. His hand shook a little as he worked his way inside Cory. He looked for Cory’s prostate and congratulated himself when Cory’s groans let him know he’d found it.

Gordon lost his concentration for a moment when he thought about how odd it was that this gorgeous man had chosen to be with him. Cory grunted unhappily; Gordon’s fingers must have probed in the wrong direction while he was second-guessing himself.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he babbled, running his other hand up and down Cory’s back in an attempt to soothe him.

“Just – just pay attention to what you’re doing.”

Once Gordon had worked as many fingers as he thought were necessary, he slathered lube on his penis. Cory got up on his hands and knees, wagging his rear to let Gordon know to get on with it.

Gordon gripped Cory’s left hip with one hand and wrapped the other around the base of his cock in order to aim it in the right direction. Despite this, the first attempt didn’t work out; the tip of his penis bounced off instead of sliding between Cory’s cheeks. He went more slowly the second time, hissing with pleasure as Cory took in his cock. He closed his eyes and performed an imaginary victory dance when he was fully seated inside Cory and his balls were pressed against Cory’s ass.

The victory dance ended prematurely when Cory growled, “Fuck me, damn you.” Doing as he was told, Gordon plunged in so hard and fast that Cory had to hold onto the headboard so the thrusts wouldn’t knock him into it headfirst. As he pushed in and pulled back, Gordon watched the sinews in Cory’s neck strain and perspiration break out on his back, amazed that he’d had such effect on the man in front of him in such a short time.

Cory’s ragged voice asking Gordon to touch him reminded him that he hadn’t paid any attention to Cory’s cock. He lowered his torso until his chest met Cory’s sweaty back, which allowed him to reach Cory’s cock and wrap his fingers around it. It jumped in his hand.

After that, Gordon was barely aware of what was happening. He knew that the way he was handling Cory’s cock was pulling lewd sounds out of Cory, that he was gripping Cory’s hip with his other hand, and was pounding him into mercilessly otherwise, but other than that, he abandoned conscious thought for instinct. Maybe Cory was right. Maybe not being able to look each other in the eye made it easier to let go completely.

He thought about what Cory looked like when he came. Picturing that, plus the slap of skin against skin and the creak of the bedsprings, brought him to the edge. He paused for a moment, panting, and decided to continue. He saw no reason to torture them both by trying to hang on just to prove he could.

A few more jerks were all it took to for Cory to orgasm and for his semen to spatter Gordon’s hand and the bedspread underneath them. His muscles squeezing around Gordon’s cock as Gordon continued to thrust brought Gordon to climax, too. Then Gordon held Cory in his arms until the spasms stopped for both of them.

When that happened, Cory stretched out on his stomach. Gordon almost collapsed on top of him, but at the last minute he rolled far enough away so as not to crush him. They lay there panting until Gordon said, “I see why you like doing it that way.”

“Mm,” Cory responded sleepily. Gordon thought about suggesting another round with Cory on the receiving end, but Cory looked like he was ready to go to sleep. So Gordon got up instead and started looking for his clothes.

“What are you doing?” Cory asked, looking over his shoulder at Gordon while he was picking up his underwear.

“Getting my clothes. You look beat, so I might as well get going.”

Cory pushed himself up and sat cross-legged on the bed. “I’m fine,” he said sharply. “Come here.”

Gordon straightened up and walked over to the side of the bed where Cory was sitting. Cory grabbed Gordon’s butt and pulled him in until his legs and Cory’s were pressed together. He rested the top of his head on Gordon’s stomach and said, “I want to fuck you from behind. Is there time, or do you have to leave?”

Gordon looked around for a clock. “I have time. You sure about this?”

It shouldn’t have been possible to raise an eyebrow and scowl at the same time, but Cory managed it. “I know, I know,” Gordon said, displaying his palms in a placating gesture. “You don’t say anything you don’t mean. Sheesh.” He dropped the clothing he was holding on the floor and sat down next to Cory.

“On your hands and knees,” Cory said.

Gordon shivered a little as he got into position. Cory went through a more hurried version of their earlier preparation. Gordon couldn’t tell if Cory was rushing because he was still loose and slick from before or if impatience played a part in it as well.

He couldn’t help but tense up as Cory pushed past that initial ring of muscle more forcefully than he had before. At least Gordon’s recent exposure to it from the other side had taught him that this position could feel good for the receiver even though it looked brutal. He felt his insides being stretched, and it burned a little, but soon his muscles relaxed enough for Cory to slip all the way inside of him.

* * *

Cory held Gordon’s butt with one hand while he lined himself up with the other and thrust in. Gordon still felt tight, and his muscles clenched despite the double prep. Cory figured that he was still a little nervous about being on the receiving end even after his experience on the other side.

Then the resistance gave way and Cory’s cock slid in all the way. The fit was still snug though, and the vise-like grip around his cock led Cory to wonder how long he’d be able to last. An unexpected spasm on Gordon’s part was enough to make Cory jump; he responded with a not entirely playful swat to Gordon’s behind before he pulled partway out so he could start fucking Gordon in earnest.

Cory leaned forward and pressed Gordon’s head and upper torso down onto the mattress while he secured Gordon’s other arm behind his back. Gordon’s spine curved downward like a ski slope while his cute ass was still curved up in the air. With Gordon pinned, Cory was able to drive into him until he was gasping and muttering curses into the pillow.

Cory yanked Gordon’s hips back and started thrusting more shallowly, trying to stop himself from coming before Gordon did. He reached forward and began squeezing Gordon’s cock with each thrust. The rhythm he’d built up and the friction of skin moving against skin brought him to such a knife’s edge of tension that he couldn’t back off even if he wanted to once he felt the tightness in his balls and coiling sensation in his gut that signaled impending orgasm. He abruptly let go, scrabbling at and holding onto Gordon’s hips as aftershocks racked his body.

He became dimly aware that Gordon and Gordon’s cock, which he was still holding, were spasming too. He loosened his grip and milked Gordon’s cock until Gordon stopped ejaculating. When he became fully conscious once again, he discovered that his now-soft cock had slipped out and they were now collapsed on the bed, facing each other. He pushed a strand of Gordon’s sweaty, disheveled hair out of his face while Gordon smiled at him.

* * *

Gordon was anxious not to arrive late for dinner and turned down Cory’s offer of a quick shower in favor of a few swipes with the now chilly and barely damp washcloth. He threw on his clothes, giving Cory a sloppy kiss before dashing out.

Jimmy watched him bolt down the main staircase and out the front door. “Connie isn’t going to like this,” he muttered to himself.

Cory headed for the bathroom and a quick shower, but his phone rang before he could get in the shower. “Yes?” he said, irritated.

“Hello, Cory,” Connie said in her deep, melodious drawl. “Stop by my office after dinner, okay? We need to talk.”

“What about?” This couldn’t have anything to do with Gordon. Other residents had outside lovers. There was no reason why he couldn’t.

“Cory, honey, if I told you that, we might as well have our talk now. You go enjoy your dinner first. ”

That was easier said than done. Cory’s stomach clenched all through dinner, which was spicier than he preferred anyway. By the time he was outside the door to Connie’s office, he felt like a schoolboy who’d been sent to the principal’s office. After a moment’s hesitation, he straightened his shoulders and knocked on the door.

 

Next chapter: Cory’s conversation with Connie and its consequences.

A/N: There really is a movie theatre in the Uptown District near the universities that charges a low price for shows that start before six o’clock. Its name is the Prytania Theater, and its website is [here](http://www.theprytania.com/).


End file.
